How to Sissify a Husband
a story by Prim in three parts

The story so far: Marilyn Singer and her mother Sylvia dominate Marilyn's weak husband Charles. They compromise his sexuality by making him wear effeminate clothing, to avoid any danger of him showing infidelity. To emphasize the point Sylvia invites two of her friends, Debra and Josie, and present him to them wearing items of Sylvia's clothing. When the women dress him in their panties to test his reaction, his sexuality surrenders in openly transvestite weakness. He is due to start a de-sexualizing course at a sissification hospital.

Chapter Two - Understandable Maybe, But We Will Not Have Resistance.

Sylvia Bracken took her place again on the opposite settee from her friends and lifted her glass of Chablis in a toast. "To a very feminine weekend for my son-in-law, and may he show us his progress so far."

"To a VERY feminine weekend," replied the other two, and they drank a first sip, settling back comfortably into the red cushions. "Is he upstairs with Marilyn?" asked Debra, casting a glance towards the hall door.

"She's doing his make-up and making him presentable for our visitors. Warning him at the same time about what will happen if he makes a fuss." Sylvia raised her brows with sorely tried patience, pushed her blond hair back from her shoulder and heaved a breath that swelled her white blouse frills to twice the depth. Everyone knew she was beautiful, not least her weak and irritating son-in-law. "He's only been at Pink and Sissify one week," she said, "but already he's getting ideas above his station - arguing, contradicting, that kind of thing. He seems to disagree with us turning him into a totally female sissy." She fussed her double collar of ruffles with an equally ruffle-edged and pearl-buttoned cuff, her silk and chiffon blouse deliberately chosen to add confusion to her unsexed son-in-law.

Debra and Josie exchanged grins. Fireworks between Sylvia, Marilyn and their subdued sissy would make amusing watching. "I can't wait to see what he's like after a week in the sissification hospital," said Debra, her cupid lips wide with a grin of anticipation beneath her slightly pointed nose. Her brown hair framed her face to her shoulders while a quiff fell over one half of her forehead so that she peered out from beneath it. She sat forward in her white dress of polyester printed all over with large red roses, slightly stiffened with a rich satin lining that sizzled round her bust and her hips. She wore white high heels over nude stockings, and her beads and earrings were large and white. "What has been happening to him in that place? Tell us a bit about how they work with their - patients?"

Sylvia looked into a distant corner of the room as if wondering where to start. "Hormones," she began, "medical attention to his genitals, impressing on him how he wants to be girlish." She looked more directly at her friends. "I understand they tell him twenty times a day, in great detail, how delicious he will feel when he is a girl." She enjoyed seeing them gape with delight.

"And does it sink into him?" asked Josie, intent on seeing changes in the sexuality of Sylvia's son-in-law. "I'd love to see him looking like a girl and ACTING like one." Her long, almost black hair fell down the back of her crisp blouse, in pastel orange like barley sugar, because she wore her pointed collar popped up round her cheeks and open down to her cleavage. She had matched it with a russet brown tight skirt to below her knees with a flare of smart kick pleats at the back, coffee stockings and brown very high heels with peeping toes. "From what we saw of him a few weeks ago I would have thought he was practically a sissy before he even got to the place. What kind of an impression did he make on the staff?"

Sylvia lifted her chin and spoke with full possession of the facts. "Nurse Wilshaw said she had never felt a sissy who started in such an effeminate condition."

"Felt?" echoed Debra. "Do they spend their time smoothing their hands all over these creatures?"

"Oh absolutely. The whole process is very tactile - very hands-on. Apparently the way to their minds is through their bodies. Matron Roundswell found he responded with complete surrender, every time, especially to anything affecting his abdominal area. He has a girly groin and ass."

"Oh my," said Debra.

"How delightful," said Josie. "So how does this effeminacy show itself in him. Is he all girly in his hands, and coy and shy?"

"He responds to pretty panties," Sylvia replied and took a sip of wine. "Especially in satin or crushed silk - this kind of thing," and she leaned down to a chair-side table set back a bit, out of sight, and lifted a large pair of shiny panties in pastel blue, intricately decorated over most of the front with blue and white lacework. She held them by the waist to show their width and depth.

"A bit 'Auntie's panties'," said Debra. "What effect do these have on him, darling?"

Sylvia pursed her lips and smiled. "You'll have to wait and see. Pink and Sissify sent along a valise of stuff for us to use on him, and he's going to show you one or two girly reactions that I think you'll like."

"I want to see the reactions in his girly groin and ass," said Josie with a grin.

"Well that's one thing we are definitely going to show you," said Sylvia, setting down her glass and getting to her feet. "Something else the hospital brought for him is a piece of equipment that's one of their main ways of desexing him." She walked to the corner of the room near the window where a silver cape-like cover hid an intriguing item that reached as high as Sylvia's waist. She bent low and recovered something from the floor, then brought it back to the middle. She put it on the carpet and pushed so that it rolled out into a white rubber mat a metre and a half long. The visitors found themselves looking down on a cluster of smiling Disney princesses.

"Oh my God, Sylvia," asked Debra, "is he into Disney princesses?"

"Have they got him wanting to be a little girl?" Josie wanted to know.

"Not quite," said Sylvia, heading back to the window and talking over her shoulder. "Not yet anyway. They've been working on him with women's lingerie and blouses, and introducing one or two items that suggest little girl feelings to him. Marilyn and I think it's clever the way they're doing it." As she explained to her friends, they got up and joined her, curious to see what the hospital had sent for their sissified patient over the weekend. Sylvia removed the cover to reveal a white plastic bag standing on four pink plastic legs, and a separate pink plastic container that stood on wheels, with a smiling Barbie on both sides of it. She separated the two items so that she could bring forward the bag on legs, which also turned out to be on wheels, and set off wheeling it towards the waiting mat.

"Oh, more princesses for him," said Debra, chuckling: " Belle, Snow White, Ariel, Pocahontas," and she counted half a dozen round the white plastic with more round the other side. "But what is it, Sylvia?"

The plastic of the bag was crisp and shiny and clearly as strong and thick as if it was a sturdy mackintosh. It hung at the level of their waists, with horizontal bars running through it in a rectangle about two feet by one and a half feet. The top side, in plain white plastic, was closed except for an elasticated slot. Sylvia used her shoe to clamp a brake at each wheel, then stood beside the apparatus and declared with a satisfied grin: "This is his navel pinking bag."

She was met with looks of puzzlement. "How does it work?" asked Debra, looking over and under it.

"He sits in it," said Sylvia. "This slot in the top pinches his waist, while under here are two more slots that grip the tops of his thighs. He sits in warm water, almost hot, but very sensual. It has specially designed compounds fed into it that stimulate and feminize his whole area inside the bag."

"No kidding?" Josie's eyes were wide with delight. Across the top, or the lid of the bag, a line of pop fasteners showed it could open and close, with more down the side between the princesses. She was about to ask more but they were interrupted by the distant sound of slapping sounds in a regular rhythm, mingled with stifled cries. More slapping, then Marilyn's irritated voice. All three women stood and listened and when the sounds had finished, Josie asked her question. "These two smaller slots on either side of his waist - what are they for?"

"That," said Sylvia, "you must wait to find out."

Debra's whole face lit up as she smiled. "I can't wait to see his face when he's in it, being pinked." As they examined it in detail, Sylvia's phone rang on the settee.

"Right, we're getting things ready for him down here. See you in a min." she rang off. "Marilyn has got him ready for us," she said. "She's bringing him down now."


Marilyn Singer wore her dark hair in a generous bob not reaching her shoulders. She stepped into the living room in a simple silver-grey, body-hugging dress and greeted the visitors with a smile. "My husband didn't want to meet you, the ignorant puppy, so I had to insist. I hope he didn't disturb you."

"No." "Not at all," came the visitors' replies as their eyes devoured the unfortunate male on release from Pink and Sissify. He was led by the hand towards the standing women, his page-boy dark bob curling slightly at both sides of his jaw, while all he wore were a matching rose pink bra and panty set that housed very large breast-forms, and a pair of tan stockings that looked very shapely thanks to his tall black court shoes. His cock pushed higher and further forward in his panties as he approached. Debra's hair fluttered at her neck as she seemed to shake her head a little. "Hello Charles," she said with a rye smile.

"No," said Marilyn, "he is now called Charlotte at Pink and Sissify. They have asked us to get him used to it. Shall we all sit down?"

Her husband saw the pinking bag and started to whimper, which only served to draw the visitors' attention to his pathetic state. "Look at his arms, Debra, and his whole body," said Josie: "so smooth and he looks just - delicate."

Debra sat on the edge of her seat, looking up at him from beneath her hair. "Are you feeling delicate, Charlotte?" she said.

His eyes lidded with misery at her words, but he was startled back to life by Marilyn behind him.

"What did I say you had to do as soon as you were in front of our guests?" she cried.

He stood for a moment, head bowed, then sank to his knees, his suspenders tugging on the welts of his stockings.

"You're not wearing a skirt to hold by the edges," went on his wife, "so hold your hands out to the sides as if you were."

He did as he was told, in a pained silence, then asked: "Please - Debra - may I - "

"MISS Debra!" snapped Marilyn.

"Please, Miss Debra - may I kiss your shoes?"

She looked surprised and then stepped one of her feet closer to him. He bent low, placing a reverent kiss on her toe. He knelt up again, his face a picture of misery, and spoke in a hurt voice.

"I'm still a male, Miss Debra, and this has got to stop. I'm appealing to you. You're an understanding woman of unimpeachable good nature and common sense. You can prevail on Marilyn and Sylvia to change their minds." There was a silence that could have been cut with a knife, while Debra sat looking into his eyes, turning her face a little to the side as if sympathetically asking him to go on. He glanced to the side, in case he was about to reap the reward of his insolence, then spoke again. "You will understand how painful this is to me, to have my maleness mocked and denied like this, with breasts and stockings. I should be sitting in a shirt and pants like any other husband. Don't you agree?"

Marilyn and Sylvia looked as if they were sucking lemons, but allowed Debra to deal with him in her own way, while Josie bit her lip. There was the faintest of head-shakes when Debra replied.

"Maybe occasionally you feel you want to be a female - Charlotte? A girl even?"

"No! I don't! I want to be a man like any other man." His voice was full of insistence, but unfortunately for him it broke as he was saying: "I don't want to be put into that ba-ag," and became alarmingly high as he clarified: "into the pinking bag. Please stop them from putting me into it. It does things to my - to my - it does AWFUL things to me. Please, Miss Debra."

"Charolotte," said Josie at Debra's side, "you're talking with a girl's voice. You're acting like a little girl, dear."

He covered his mouth with one hand over the other.

"Maybe you sometimes feel excited," went on Debra, her voice calm and supportive, "when Sylvia or Marilyn dress you in their lingerie?" and she took one of his hands in hers and held it on her lap. "I'm trying to help you understand what is happening to you, pet. I can see that it's an awful struggle for you to accept some of the feelings of girlishness going through you, and making you feel soft and a bit weak."

Josie took his other hand away from his face and held it in both her hands on the knees of her skirt. "We'll go along with what your wife and her mother want to do with you for now, hon," she said, "and later on we'll see if you're still unhappy about being dressed sweetly and made to feel like you're feminine like us."

A gush of hopelessness in him came out a muted wail as both women continued to gaze into his appealing eyes with as much concern as they could offer him, considering they were only guests and didn't have a lot of say on the sexual treatment intended for him by the women in his own household. Marilyn brought his little appeal to a halt.

"Mother," she said, "enough of this nonsense. Can we put him into your blouse to remind him that he's feminine and going to be a lot more so, starting right now." He turned in horror, to see Sylvia undoing the cuffs of her blouse and pulling it out of the waist of her skirt. "He can stay there, Debra, on his knees. Just right for you to fasten him into his Mother-In-Law's blouse."

His wailing became even more girl-like as Sylvia stood up with nothing above her skirt except the white bodice and cups of her corselet. She stood beside him where he knelt, waiting to be bloused, and Marilyn helped on the other side as they held the sleeves for him to slot his arms down inside. Debra was still thoughtful and supportive.

"You see, hon, if you follow the orders of your Mother-In-Law, and your wife," and she gathered the two sides of the blouse cuff at his wrists on the knee of her dress, "you get to wear such lovely blouses. Just look at the beautiful frills round your shoulders, and this frilly cuff, with darling pearled buttons. You must feel so sweet and feminine, wearing it over your breasts?"

"No! No!" he wailed, shaking his head, his mouth open as if crying with agonies of misery.

"Yes, yes," corrected Sylvia from above. "You're going to wear your hospital pink skirt at the same time," and she opened out a little pink mini with four pleats across the front and another six pleats round the sides and the back. Josie was keenly aware that his cock was pointing his panties higher and higher. She lifted the front of his blouse to reveal his erected condition.

"You may not want to be a girl, sweetie," she said, "but you're feeling really nice while we're dressing you in your blouse and skirt. Your little popsie is nice and excited, isn't it?"

"Let me put it into its pink skirt," said Debra, hooking it together at the front of the waistband. "I'll fasten your big pink skirt buttons down here, like this."

He couldn't very well deny his arousal as the pink satin lining of the skirt closed over it.

"Oh such a pity," declared Josie. "Your breasts are too big for us to put your skirt straps over your shoulders. Look, they won't reach."

"Yes they will," declared Sylvia. "The shoulder straps can go round the outside of his bust - like this - since they're not long enough to go over them."

"Ah yes," said Josie, "he can wear his skirt higher, then the straps will go over his melon tits."

The pitiful male sank in their arms, or would have done if Sylvia hadn't snapped at him to kneel up in her blouse and stop slouching in front of her guests. She fussed the wide collars of ruffles round his shoulders from behind, while Debra and Josie kept hold of his hands to keep him mindful that they were watching him in his sweetness. His skirt was hoisted high so that his panties were practically uncovered. In the meantime, Marilyn had disappeared to the far side of the room and was wheeling the pink tank towards where the pinking bag stood on its legs on the rubber floor mat.

"He's home Friday, Saturday and Sunday," she told the guests, "and he has to have a navel bath for an hour each day as a vital part of his conditioning, so it had to come home with him."

Sylvia stepped across to the bag apparatus and un-popped the top and the side panel. "We're going to demonstrate his navel bath. Matron says it is one of the main methods of bringing home his femininity to him. It helps him realise he wants to be female."

"No! No I don't want to be female! Oh please don't put me into the water. Don't do it! Don't do it!" he cried, held by the hands by both guests so that he had to twist to protest his resistance towards his wife and her mother. "I don't want to be feminine. I never will. I'm masculine, I tell you. A male. I don't want to feel excited in this blouse and my little s-s-skirt. I am NOT turning female!"

Marilyn was beside him, taking him from the hands of the visitors. "You're going into your pinking bath," she said, "but first, a little something to remind you not to argue."

Her husband gave a yelp as the swish of a leather strap whipped across the back of his thigh. And another, and another. Charles Singer tried to twist his legs away from the stings, but only succeeded in making himself look little girlish in his panic. He decided it would be best to cooperate, and stood upright as Sylvia opened the side of the frame for him to step into the middle of the legs.

Mother and daughter made such quick work of closing him in that Debra and Josie sprang to their feet in case they missed anything. The bag itself hung from the waist bars on three sides, so that the 'opening' side, once the base of the bag had been pulled tight at the top of each leg and clipped shut, could be pop fastened up to the waist level on its fourth side. But not before a plastic panty had been pop-fastened under him in case of any leakage. Then he was popped together across the top until his waist was tightly held. Their captive sissy set up a grizzling whine while he was being done up, including having his hands clipped into wrist grips at the front end of each side.

"Now," said Marilyn, busy with the pink container, "we fill his navel bag with water. I say water, but - "

"Oh please don't. Marilyn I'm begging you. Don't put the water in. Have pity on me, pleeeease! Oww! Owwwww!"

A couple of sharp cuts of the strap across his leg stopped his complaining. A pipe a couple of inches in width pushed through a round socket at the back of his bag and clipped tightly into position. Then Sylvia pressed a switch on the pink tank and it hummed into action.

"Ohhh no-o-o-ooo!" wailed Charles, but Marilyn judged he was expressing self-pity rather than complaining to her so she let him whinge on.

"We fill his bag with warm water," she explained, "followed by a de-sexing agent. The temperature is kept level to ensure maximum effectiveness of the hormonal impregnation through his skin and his apertures. We'll be able to watch his desexing taking place."

"While you're suffering the effect of desexing," said Sylvia, for her friends' benefit even though she was standing in front of her son-in-law, "we're going to dress you in nice things, Charlotte." Her voice was a coo, unlike the way she'd been talking to him up until now. Her fingers gathered handfuls of collar frills and fussed and arranged them around him, now that he could do nothing to interfere. His face was crimson with embarrassment and wretchedness.

"Darling you look lovely in your Mother-In-Law's blouse," said Josie at her side, her voice too taking on an intimate coo. "You must feel so feminine in such a precious blouse. It's so pretty." She busied herself shaping his billowing sleeve in front of her own blouse.

The ring of a soft chime came from the pink reservoir, followed by a husky female voice. "Charlotte," it said, "our nice mixture of water and Herswell is ready for your navel. We want you to fell lovely while we reduce your male sex count and increase your femininity. That's why you're wearing pretty female apparel, sweetie - so that you love it more and more - and want to wear it every moment of your life. Feel very feminine, Charlotte. Here is your desexing mix."

Sylvia and Marilyn had heard the machine speech before, but for Debra and Josie it was a thrilling moment. They marvelled at each other and watched and listened as the connecting pipe bucked a little showing its activity, and the inflow of fluids could be heard in the navel bag.

Sylvia fussed his blouse all the more, keeping him looking at herself, helped on one side by Josie and on the other by Debra. The object of their interest was engulfed in a struggle of his own, trying to fight against sexual drives that he wanted to resist. His throat yielded one gasp of crisis after another and his legs in their high heels demonstrated his fight: now pressing together, now pulling apart; trying to cycle, or stamping as if to free himself from his navel bag. Meanwhile the fluid filled out the bag so that it took on more of a ball shape, sagging in its weight of water, its contents going to work on the vulnerable flesh it surrounded. Marilyn stood behind her husband but to one side of the bag.

"Matron Roundswell wants you in this pretty petticoat," she said, opening a cluster of white chiffon frills, lifting the back of his blouse and passing it round his bra cups before drawing the two ends under his arms and together at his back. Debra and Josie held it for her as she reached round him to feed the shoulder ribbons over his shoulders, before clipping each of them to the top at the back. Then she fastened the back with further little ribbons which did into pretty bows. "She wants you in short, very wide petticoats," his wife went on. "This is a blouse petti: Matron says you must have pretty petticoats under your blouse, so that your blouses flare out ever so sweetly, like for little girls."

"Ohhhhhh!" gurgled her husband; "I don't want to be - a lit - a little gi-i-i-i-irl!"

"I can understand Charlotte making a fuss," said Debra, stroking him over his hair and fussing out the now widely spread chiffon of the blouse: "it must be a shocking check on his male nature to be put into a desexing bag with four women dressing him in petticoats."

He wailed and moaned by turns, his legs apparently trying to separate wider, as if to allow the hormonal agents to access his weakest sexual parts to do their feminizing work.

"And with his sexual bits feeling dainty and girly as we stand around him," added Josie.

"That's exactly right," said Marilyn, stooping to catch one of her husband's legs and using a length of pink rubber which was attached to the leg of the frame to pass a clip round his ankle and snap it shut. "That's the end result of his naval bath: he will want to be a girl."

"No-o-o-oooo! I DON'T want to be ---- oh, wh-what are you do-? No-o-o-o, don't open my botty!" he cried as his second leg was fastened, so that as his legs were drawn back, his whole body was tilted forward.

"It comes from the water itself with its suggestibility agent stirred in," she went on, standing beside him again and getting ready to insert her hand into his navel bag through the tightly pinched elastic aperture a few inches behind his waist. It was a tight squeeze, but then the visitors realized she was working her hand into the fingers of a latex glove that formed part of the bag and hung into the feminizing liquid.

By now the bag was bulging at full capacity, with Disney princesses smiling even more widely, and Charles Singer wallowed in a bag full of warm fluid round his middle. He was able to take the weight of his upper body on his wrists which hung from the plastic frame that supported his pinking bag, but he was only too aware of the aches of pleasure that awaited him as his wife's finger probed his bottom cheeks and her fingertip found the way into his anus.

"Oh! Ohhh! No-o-o-oooo!" he warbled, but his throat gurgled helplessly, before turning to grunts that the women recognised as moans of sexual pleasure.

"It's the feminine clothes that bring out his urges," said Sylvia, turning away from him for just as long as it took her to bring the large pair of her panties towards him and to hold them at her waist level so that they were presented to his face. His legs kicked, his throat redoubled its gurgles of pleasure, and he buried his face gratefully into his Mother-In-Law's panties. Kick and kick and kick. He developed an effective rhythm which answered his need, and it wasn't long before the women witnessed what must have been a climax for him inside his pinking bag.

"Well," said Debra. "Can we all play?" and she stooped to reach up under her dress and pull down her own panties, in white satin with soft lace edgings at the legs. Josie did the same, with panties in silver satin covered in black polka dots and soon they were holding them ready to administer more pleasure for the feminization of their helpless captive. Marilyn knew what was needed and she withdrew her finger stimulation and brought her hand out of the bag.

"What little Charlotte needs," she said, unclipping his legs so that he rotated to an upright position, "is a little face feminizing, isn't it, my precious?" She dabbed a kiss on his cheek, then stooped at the front end of his frame and secured his ankles to the front legs of pink plastic, so that the fluid of his pinking bag gurgled and squelched around him until his body was leaning back with his arms at full stretch.

"Shall we put Charlotte into her lovely girling bonnet?" she asked him, looking down at him with a smile. "Then you'll be able to have Debra's and Josie's panties round your face - won't that be nice for our sissy little girl?"

He looked up at her with plaintive weakness in his eyes, then somehow steeled himself, clenched his fists and cried out: "I am NOT a little girl!"

Marilyn's face morphed from sweetness and light into stung annoyance. She took up her strap and lashed at his legs, crying: "WE - WILL - NOT - HAVE -ANY - RESISTANCE! Mother, put him into his bonnet."

His wailing resumed, more desperately than before, as Sylvia opened the large poke bonnet in finely patterned pink flowers, cupped it behind his hair, and drew it together all round his face, doing it into a bow of ribbons under his chin. He looked out at Debra from deep within, as she folded her panties into flat halves and fed them into his face between his cheek and the stiffened wing of his bonnet. Josie appeared in his vision, her soft, spotted silver panties ready folded, and smoothed them in, round his face, so that he was surrounded in the panties of his Mother-In-Law's friends. He peered out with his mouth opened and his lips trembling, with gurgles of suspended pleasure sounding deep in his throat, until he saw Sylvia grinning in at him, and felt her hand slotting into the glove that hung inside the front end of his bag. He lost control of his body, his legs kicked and parted helplessly, and his cock, already stiffened in the desexing fluid, felt his Mother-In-Law's fingers closing around it in slippery, fondling, latex attentions.

"Matron Roundswell has done well with you so far, Charlotte," she said, looking down her nose at him as his eyes lidded with inescapable pleasure. "I've got a feeling that when our guests call again in three weeks' time, she will have our little sissy wanting to wear nice girls' dresses for us, with very wide petticoats, and pretty sissy bonnets. What do you think, ladies?"

Into his vision, on either side of Sylvia, appeared the smiling faces of Debra and Josie. "Ohhhhhhh!" he gasped, unable to control his body, his voice or even his desires. His arms pulled and his legs pumped, trying to push into the delicious massaging of Sylvia's fingers.

"He's loving our panties, Josie," cooed Debra. "Let's close his bonnet a little closer to help him," cooed Josie. And as the peak of his pleasure grew closer and closer, Charles Singer announced in a gurgling murmur: "I - I think I'm in love - with your PANTIES!"


The final chapter of How to Sissify a Husband, entitled Sissies are for Ladies' Pleasure, will be in the next issue of Prim's Petticoat Pansies, when Charlotte will be required to entertain even more ladies.