The story so far:
18-year-old student Lyndon Blonding has suffered from the departure of his father from Dressing Manor, since his stepmother, Vera Hidebotham, is determined to take revenge on her husband's son. She feeds him a feminising agent, Fem-Agra, which alters his gender and gives him an urgent appetite for girlish dresses. When he smuggles a letter pleading for help to his school teacher, Miles Johnson, the teacher approaches Headmistress Alison Forceman. She seems supportive, but similarly uses Fem-Agra on her young teacher in his daily visits to her study. A second letter is brought by governess Enid Feel, describing how Lyndon is feminised, dressed and punished by his stepmother. Johnson, who now feels an irresistible desire for little dresses, persuades Miss Forceman to help him intervene.

  Lyndon Blonding stepped nervously across the polished wooden floor of the Pantyfrilling Chamber, led by the hands of his stepmother on one side and his governess on the other. He was completely naked, except for the girly-garterbelt that his nurse had put him into: a one-inch-wide glossy pink waist belt, trimmed with white lace on its lower edge, with a narrow pink ribbon from each hip pulled tautly to the root of his penis, where the ribbon cinched his little organ round its tender shaft; then it circled his scrotum under its root, with a dividing ribbon that clipped tightly back onto itself up the middle and separated his scrotum into two sensitively exposed little spheres.

  He was ashamed. Beside himself with shame, on account of the way his penis, which used to be not a bad size at all for an 18-year-old, had somehow lost so much of its length and thickness. Oh it still stiffened all right, all the time, but when his hands were free, when they weren't strapped immovably over the back of a chair, he could run his fingers over his penis and scrotum with tears streaming from his eyes, and see how childishly small and feeble it had become. It had even lost its maleness, and had become somehow dainty and… almost girlish. His eyes filled with tears. It was a child's penis, he knew, and somehow it became terribly, terribly excited over the panties and dresses that his stepmother had for him.

  It was erecting now… lifting and nearly standing up, because he was being marched towards Doctor Harding who was sitting waiting for him, a grin of expectant contempt widening her full lips and attractive face. This was the clinic room of the Manor, and Lyndon was becoming increasingly familiar with it since the Doctor's visits were now a daily event. He was so ashamed that his stepmother knew how pathetically small his penis had become, and Miss Feel too, his nurse and governess. But for a woman visitor to see it made him try and turn his legs the other way as he was being led towards her.

  Everything about Doctor Jessica Harding made him cringe. She would wear such crisp medical tunics, and today she wore one in shiny pink nylon, fastening over her big breasts with pink, pearled, slotted buttons, flaring to her thighs where it appeared that she wasn't wearing a skirt underneath. Her youthful male patients couldn't help but suffer total embarrassment under the piercing gaze of such attractive blue eyes surrounded with a short, blond pageboy bob, so well suited to the efficiency and directness of her work. Her hair was surmounted by the wide points of a matching pink nursing cap with a row of shiny buttons along its top edge. Her legs too, in patterned black stockings and patent black high heels, added to her dominant presence. By the time his stepmother and nurse had him standing forlornly in front of her, his penis was pointing insolently straight towards her breasts.

  "Well, Jessica," said the youth's stepmother, bringing her stepson round the bar chair with his nurse's help, and pulling him up by the arms until he had to perch on the small upholstered seat-pad, "I hope you're going to make the Fool suffer the most excruciating agonies of shame." She and his nurse hooked his arms over the upper bar, then fastened his hands down at the sides of his seat. Nurse Feel lifted one of his feet and his stepmother lifted the other to hook them onto the lower bar, four feet apart, and fastened them at the ankles. The motor hummed as the doctor raised his seat until his penis was presented for her inspection.

  "Not fully erected," she declared with a tut of disgust, "so how the hell can I examine it?" She reached behind her head with a sizzle of pouffed sleeves, the winged cuffs at her wrists flaring above her shoulders, and lifted the stiffened collar of her pink tunic until it plopped upright all round her hair, its pointed wings reaching forward from her face.
"Wimpy little faggots like you can't erect in front of women, isn't that right, girly-prick, unless your women DOMINATE you? You need to feel very small and very pathetic, but most of all you need something very frilly and very GIRLISH to do it for you, don't you, Blonding?"

  "Like a girl's blouse, isn't that right, you creep?" snarled Vera as she grabbed her stepson by the hair and twisted it tight, turning his face so that his nose was two inches from her bosom. Her stepson found himself looking down the deep plunging neck and buttons of her café au lait silk blouse, its large collar edged with lace and with elaborate lace panels on the bodice. She wore it with a short pleated skirt in chocolate taffeta that fastened with three large buttons down the front.

  "Or satin girls' panties with lace round the legs," she snapped. "That's what brings your little prick up, isn't it? Shall we try it? Shall we see how girlish that infant little prick has become, eh? Eh? Or a good whipping with the cane, eh? It likes that. Feels all defenceless and girlish, doesn't it? Enid, turn his chair and I'll give him a wake-up whipping."

  Nurse Feel clicked her pupil's chair up onto its castors and pulled the helpless youth round towards his stepmother before dropping it again onto its feet.

  "Oh no! no-oo-oo-ooooooh!" spluttered the youth, his long blond hair fluttering prettily around his neck. "Please don't spank my penis again, Stepmother. Please don't! I'm trying to be good. I'm doing my very best." He struggled wildly to get a hand or a foot or something free but he was rigid on his seat, fastened with his pelvis thrust forward and his penis straight out in front of him like a pointing finger, with no possibility of his being able to move it.

  "Let's see about some girly panties for your stepdaughter, Vera," chuckled the doctor, slipping off the front of her stool and raising a pink padded hanger in front of the begging boy. Hooked over either end of the hanger was the waist elastic of a pale blue pair of panties which, if smaller, would have been for a girl of five or six, with a sweet lacy insert down the middle to under the crotch.

  "Oh, you'd love to wear them, wouldn't you, sissykins?" cooed Miss Feel in the youth's ear as the doctor turned the hanger slowly round, "and ohhhhhhhhhhhh! just look at the gorgeous frills round the back of the panty. They must be party panties, Lyndon."

  "Ohhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhhhhh! P-P-Party panties!" warbled the 18-year-old, his eyes devouring them as Doctor Harding held the hanger and its silky underwear in front of him.

  It took only five seconds for his penis to rise towards them into full stiffness, admitting the eagerness of his emotion for the pretty little panty.

  Doctor Harding withdrew the object of his desire with a glossed curl of scorn on her lips. "Give his prick the punishment it deserves, Vera," she snorted. "Whip it for the maleness it used to have, the disgusting bit of filth."

  Nurse Feel locked the chair in position, and Vera Hidebotham whipped her cane through the air a few times to enjoy its whistle, then placed its final six inches across the upright penis.

  "Oh no, please, Stepmother! Pleeeease!"

  His voice was interrupted by a flurry of wooshing swipes as the cane whipped to and fro through the air and slashed across the fleshy shaft of her stepson's rigid organ. The cries and screams were pitiful to hear, all the more so because there was nothing Lyndon Blonding could do to protect his penis and the front of his soft thighs, which quickly glowed with red weals across his flesh.

  "Oh gorgeous, Vera darling. Whip him. Make him suffer," gasped the doctor as she sat on a low chair to watch. The boy's stepmother enjoyed the biting sensation through her hand each time her cane vibrated across the youth's penis and legs. "I just love to hear them begging and crying like this."

  One hand was under her tunic as she watched, lips parted, and the pink nylon front quivered rhythmically as her fingers helped the gusset of her panties to slide into her vulva and build her pleasure into a delicious glow. Enid Feel, too, stood behind the boy with her legs apart and had both her hands up the short skirt of her black silk dress, the wide pleats fluttering up and down as she enjoyed seeing her youthful charge punished for his disgusting maleness.

  Vera stopped when she was short of breath, throwing her cane onto the table and clasping the folds of her blouse collar to waft some cool air onto her heaving bosom.

  "There," she panted, having to call out over the wailing and slobbering of her stepson. "Now you can complete your examination and we can get him into this afternoon's conditioning. What have you got in store for him this time, bearing in mind it will turn out to be his most important day since I took over his life?"

  Jessica Harding brought further squeals from the spread-eagled youth as she began her measuring with no concern for the tenderness of his livid, beaten penis.

  "Well, Vera," she said, "I sometimes give in to kind feelings, which is a weakness, I know." She grinned, and interrupted what she was saying to declare what she was noting on her clipboard: "3.6 inches front; 2.7 inches back - in full erection."

  The youth's stepmother and nurse exchanged grins of pleasure.

  "But on this occasion I will allow the little jerk a choice." She concentrated for a moment on her measurements, then noted them down. "Knob girth 1.8 inches; shaft top 1.6; shaft base 1.9." She looked up as Vera watched her at work. "It's gratifying to know that these readings are less than half what they were when his treatment started."

  There was a cry of shame-filled disbelief from the naked youth. "Ohhhh! Oooohhhhh! What's happening to me?" he wailed, his mouth wide open and drooping in misery.

  "And his balls…" continued the doctor, ignoring him as she threaded her silk tape in different directions around his smooth, throbbing scrotum which was as wrinkle-free as a baby's bottom. "Hmm. They're nicely swollen, which is an excellent indicator of a high reserve of spunk. But more importantly," and she looked up at his stepmother with a snigger of contempt, "it shows that the little pervert will be able to squirt and squirt til the cows come home, so to speak."

  Enid clapped her hands with delight, enjoying the gob-smacked silence this announcement had caused in the boy. "Oh God, Ma'am," she cried, leaning across the upper bar of his chair to see the look of pained despair on his face, "I'd love to see him spunking for his girls' clothes. But I thought you said he wouldn't be able to get any release, and he would ache with desire?"

  "That's true," grinned Vera widely. "He won't. At least nothing like as much as he'd like to. Isn't that right, Jessica?"

  "That's one of the beauties of Fem-Agra, dear," explained the Doctor, holding the little pair of panties in front of the stiffened penis. "The patient is gagging for girlish dressing… frantic for it; but even if you give him as much as he craves for, it's not enough to tap into his spunk. For that, he needs some other violent urge to draw on his newly feminised sexuality, like a shock of humiliation, or degradation at the hands of a roomful of women or girls. Then he's quite likely to hit the ceiling with his jism, the little pervert."

  Lyndon Blonding was panting with horror, half taking in the doctor's words and half reaching for the lacy gusset of the panty with his erection.

  "And that's why we're getting you ready for your girling, aren't we, Blonding?" smirked his stepmother, spreading her fingers over the frilled back of the panty and moving it forward, then pressing it softly onto his penis, where she smoothed her hand slowly up and down to feel the rigid shape of his genitals.

  "Oooohhhhhhhhhhhhh! Stepmother! … Stepmother, please don't girl me! I don't want to be girled!" he begged, his eyes closing with pleasure as his head lolled backward and forward in bounces of blond hair.

  "Well of course you don't want to be girled, you dunce!" rasped Vera, relaxing in front of him as she swished the panty over his whole genitals in an upward-downward motion. "If I ever thought you wanted it, I'd stop straight away, wouldn't I? We want to see you suffering. Enduring the pain of never again being a boy, or a man. Never! You will spend your whole life in little dresses and skirts, Blonding. You're going to be a darling, frilly little girl!"

  "Ohhhhhhhhhhh! Ohhh no-o-o-o-ooooooooo! Please don't, Stepmother! I'll do whatever you want. All my money… you can have it!"

  "Thank you, Clown… I've already got it. It's in my account!"

  "Ohhhhh no-o-o-o-ooooo! But… but I'll do everything you say. I'll obey every instruction every day for the rest of my life, Stepmother…"

  "Ha, ha, yes," laughed Vera Hidebotham, "you certainly will. That's absolutely certain. And there's nothing you will be able to do about it." Her face calmed into a twist of attractive, feminine hatred.
"And you will do it as a GIRL! Give him his treatment, Jessica. Make the creep more girlish right now for me."

  There were wails of helplessness and desperation from the wriggling boy as his penis and scrotum reached impotently into the panty and Doctor Harding adjusted his seat so that he was now leaning forward face to face with her in her tall stand-up pink collar.

  "So we are going to make you more girlish now, my little petal. There's nothing you can do to prevent it, but you can choose which treatment you want." She looked at Nurse Feel and Vera Hidebotham with a smile as she added in a quiet, almost maternal voice: "You like both of them, I know, even though you pretend you don't want to be dressed sweetly, pet. So… is it to be Blouse-and-Skirt-Hooding, or would you like Girls' Dreams?"

  The youth felt utterly weakened and feeble in every part of his limbs, fastened as they were. His only option seemed to be to put himself into Doctor Harding's hands, so he whispered his choice into the smirking face in front of him.

  "I'd… I'd like Girls' Dreams please, Doctor."

  The doctor's carmined lips curled into a smile. "That's right, my dear Blonding. That means you will need to be put into your dream panties and your panty leg skirts… and then your lovely dream mask, doesn't it?"

  The tears welled suddenly from Lyndon's eyes and ran copiously down his cheeks as he nodded and whispered: "Yes, Doctor."

  His bars were adjusted and he was lifted from his seat while the preparations were made for his dream conditioning. Nurse Feel knew the drill perfectly having put her charge into Girls' Dreams five times already over the past two weeks, and Vera helped the doctor to sort a nice video for his treatment on this special day. At last they had him ready, and Vera felt her pulse racing as she settled herself in her armchair to enjoy her stepson's life-changing treatment.

  "How long will you keep him under, Jessica?" she asked as Doctor Hardman arranged the youth's long, bare legs on the open sheets of pink satin with eight pairs of Vera's panties clipped like lining to each one. Each leg skirt was 24 inches wide at the top of his leg, folding over into 12, and twice as wide at the bottom where it would fold back to enclose his feet. Miss Feel and the Doctor attached his leg skirts to his garter belt at the very top of his legs, then folded them over and buttoned them down the side, finishing by buttoning them over his feet to enclose his legs completely in two loose skirts lined with panties. "Is lickel Lyndon going to feel lovely and girly in his long, bare legs, pet?" cooed the doctor as she hung his little white blouse in front of him on its hanger. There was a warble of miserable emotion from the youth as he half-sat, half-lay in the satin sling of the dream conditioner between his governess and Doctor Harding to be prepared. He knew he must show total cooperation or his stepmother would seize on the excuse for thrashing his buttocks again, and they were fiercely sore as it was.

  "Y-Yes thank you, Doctor Harding," he choked, fighting against sobs.

  He held his head still for his dream goggles and ear-pieces to be wrapped round his head, followed by his latex bathing cap to keep his hair in, and his girly mask. The eye-holes and ear-holes were useless to him with his eyes and ears blocked, but as Miss Feel zipped him up the back of his head he had breathing through his nostrils and the space between his lips where he would be given his next drink via a sucking teat. His wig of darling chestnut ringlets came next, and he was ready to be bloused and dummied for his dream.

  His blouse was in smooth crystal satin, with long sleeves gathered into cuffs that were edged with a frill, while the same frill surrounded the little pointed collar and ran down either side of his buttons. His nurse held him forward and fed each of his arms into the liquid sleeves, fastening the cuffs halfway between his elbows and wrists, while Doctor Harding fastened the four pearl buttons down his bodice. The blouse reached the bottom of his ribs, where it would meet the waist elastic of his pretty-panty, and brought whimpers of pleasure from the 'girl's' face as his arms were hooked over his elasticated loops and ribboned together at his wrists so that he sank and rose in measured bounces with his buttocks a couple of feet from the floor.

  His panty was in oyster pink satin and was designed to be fitted round him in situations where it couldn't be drawn up his legs. His nurse lifted him under the arms for Doctor Harding to slide the panty into the well of his dream sling; then it wrapped round from each side and up between his legs. But his penis would have to be tubed for his treatment, since orgasmic discharge was essential to fix the situation in which he would be unable to resist ejaculation in future.

  The tube ran from a transparent bulb bag twelve inches deep, suspended three or four feet above the patient. The suction ferrule on the other end of the tube was inserted through the front of the panty and into the clitoris pocket in the front of its gusset. Once the soft rubber ferrule had been securely fed over the stiff knob of his penis and unrolled down its shaft, his panty was slipped under his leg-skirt and garter belt and fastened up the front with two rows of panty buttons from leg lace to waist elastic. His panty crotch was prettily embroidered with letters of pale blue, which read: 'Girly' and under it: 'panty', and behind those words, his penis was rigidly erected inside the double satin pocket, with his tube emerging between 'panty' and 'Girly' to show his defeat.

  Both women sat down to enjoy the show, with one eye on the uncontrollable reactions of their captive and the other on the large video screen. There were voices that Lyndon would recognize: his governess and his stepmother, as well as Miss Forceman from school and Arabella Widely who kept visiting to play with his penis.

  "Girls' dresses are so lovely, aren't they?" ran their commentary. "It's no wonder girls love them so much and can't wait to buy lots more and put them into their wardrobe so that they have rows and rows of gorgeous dresses inside them when they open the door."

  The screen showed a gorgeous fantasy of a Lady's soft pink boudoir. One dress after another hung around the room, their hangers hooked over the knobs of dressing table drawers, tall-boy drawers and wardrobe doors. Then a blouse-cuffed hand opened the wardrobe and revealed a massive display of dress frills in silk and satin in the softest colours.

  A wail of feeling escaped the youth's girly mask and his legs kicked uncontrollably in front of him in his panty leg-skirts. Doctor Harding seized the moment to insert his cock-shaped pacifier teat through the gap in the mask at his lips, so that half of his face disappeared behind its six inch wide disc of pale yellow plastic with its matching ring hanging down onto his blouse buttons. She pulled the elasticated ribbon round the back of his hair, but it was hardly necessary; his mouth seized on it and sucked the knob of its teat avidly into the top of his throat.

  "He's drinking," grinned the doctor to Vera, sharing a giggle of satisfaction. How beautiful it was to see the doomed male running as if downhill towards his own degradation.

  "But new girls are particularly lucky," continued the screen voice - over, "because very often they will find a nice girl-friend or two who will share their lovely dresses with them. Shall we see if we can find a nice girl-friend or two for Lyndon, because we KNOW how he loves to wear pretty dresses. Oh yes, he feels ever so girlish in them."

  The occupant of the Girly Dreams satin sling was slithering his feet backward and forward in his leg skirts and thrusting his erection as far forwards as he could to try and reach the wardrobe of little dresses. Doctor Harding had her right hand up her skirt, fingering her gusset into her vulva with her teeth clenched in a mounting anguish of bliss.

  "Aren't you going to enjoy the clown's misery and shame, Vera darling?" she asked, seeing the youth's stepmother sitting back in comparative calm, although there was a smile on her face.

  Vera Hidebotham shook her head. "I can watch him choosing girlhood as many times as I like from now on," she chuckled, but I'm saving myself for the other little fool. According to Alison, he's a prize idiot and we're going to have an absolute whale of a time with him." She looked at her watch. "They should be leaving the school now, so she'll have him here in twenty minutes. And once we acquaint the drip with the new life that he will be leading from now on, I think I'll be enjoying one ding-dong paradise of pleasure." She gritted her teeth with emotion nonetheless as she heard a wail of pleasure humming through her stepson's pacifier as his 'camera eye' zoomed in on the dresses hanging by the dozen in front of him.
"So I'll wait, darling. You enjoy yourself as much as you want to."

  Jessica Harding moved her chair closer to the girly sling, so that she could doctor his panty gusset when the time came, and turned to the video monitor which the other two women were watching. Suddenly into shot came a young woman of about 18 in a primrose A-line dress with fairies all over it and a small Peter Pan collar of white satin edged with a frill, with the same white frilling at her wrists and on two hip pockets. She smiled into camera.

  "Hi Lyndon," she called, with a wave, and her straight blond hair fell forward on either side of her fringe and hung over her breast where its ends were cut across in a straight edge. "I'm Melissa and I'm 7. I knew you would like sitting in front of my open wardrobe, because I know you just LOVE little girl dresses. You would love to touch them, wouldn't you, Lyndon… and you would like to WEAR them… wouldn't you?"

  Vera and the others snorted with derision as they saw their victim nodding helplessly to the video and thrusting with his pantied penis.

  "And this is Samantha, my best friend," continued the young actress. "She's 6 and she wants to see your penis, Lyndon, because it's such a girlish, feminine little one, and she just LOVES playing with a dainty girly penis, don't you Sam?"

  Samantha was a pretty, slightly older young woman also dressed like a little girl with a round face and carefully arranged blond bubble curls in a Shirley Temple style with ringlets at her ears. She leaned into shot from the opposite side from her friend and like Melissa, spoke with her face at an angle as if looking at Lyndon inside his baby bonnet. Her dress was in red and white gingham with a wide Peter Pan collar in white, with puffed sleeves and little white turned back cuffs at each shoulder that buttoned with a white pearled button. Her dress was short but flared widely from a high white belt which buttoned across itself with three pearled buttons in front, while similar buttons ran from her throat to her waist on a pretty bib of white cotton edged all round with white lace. Her smiling face was alight with excitement, and she had to hold her cheeks in her hands, she was so beside herself.

  "Oh yes, Lyndon," she almost squeaked, "I so want to see your girl's penis. I'd LOVE to see it in a pair of little silk panties with lots of frills and… and I'd love to show it one of my dearest dresses so that your little penis could be happy and feel so sweet."

  Poor Lyndon slithered deeper and deeper into his satin girly sling, his legs kicking out above him as he surrendered himself to Melissa and Samantha. Vera watched him with deep satisfaction as she saw the front of his throat swallowing gulp after gulp of Fem-Agra, locking him into the transformation she was intent upon. She looked back to the screen to catch Melissa smiling at Lyndon once more.

  "I've got a wonderful surprise for you today, Lyndon," she smiled, "This is my old wardrobe behind me… look. All the dresses I used to wear a few years ago: two or three or four years ago, when I was a vewy ickel girlie. You would so like to sit here with me in front of my dresses, Lyndon, I know you would. But I'm going to choose a really nice dress for you now, so that you can feel gooey and rosy with it like girls themselves do. Would you like me to do that precious?"

  There was abject nodding from Lyndon Blonding inside his mask and wig, giving pangs of pleasure to Jessica Harding and Enid Feel as they felt the dampened gussets of their own panties.

  "I just knew you would, Lyndon, because you're so girlish and frilly already. In fact these dresses are all so RIGHT for you. Let me see now…" and she turned to face the rows of dresses, as did Samantha, both of them with a thoughtful finger on their cheeks.

  But it was Samantha who reached into her friend's closet first and lifted out a hanger carrying the most lovely little frock in white satin. It only reached from her shoulder to her waist as she held it against herself with one hand holding up the hanger and the other pressing and spreading the front of the frock across her own so that the 18-year-old youth could see it to full advantage.

  "Oh Lyndon, look. Look at Melissa's dress. It's a party dress, it must be. It's so shiny and slippery and look at the lovely lace here and here."

  The dress fastened down the back with three pearl buttons from neck to waist, and had a shoulder wide collar edged all round with white lace which almost hid the little puffed sleeves. Around its waist was a sash of pale apple green satin which hung loosely at the back because it wasn't fastened. Below the sash, the dress spread out in a wide skirt of twelve inches from sash to hem, and halfway down it was a second trim of lace all round the skirt to match the lace of the collar.

  "It's not a party dress, Samantha," said Melissa, shaking her head with determination. Both the women were acting just like excited little girls. "it's a church dress. I wore it on Sundays for visiting my Grandma."

  Her friend dropped her hands, deflated, and held the dress at her knees. Melissa, in the meantime, picked out the dress of her choice for the helpless youth to fall in love with.

  "Oh this is the one, girly Lyndon. Look," she said, holding the dress hanger in front of herself so that it looked to the camera as though she was wearing it. Then she stopped short with her eyes open wide and lifted the front of the dress to the side of her face.

  "My dress has got a name, Lyndon. Her name is Jenny, and she tells me she has fallen in love with you." She listened again and looked at the camera, her hair bouncing with confidence as if she had never been so sure of anything in her life.

  "She just knows you will love her frills, Lyndon, because girls always do, and look how many frills she has… look… a circle of frills up here, like shoulder frills, and frills around both her girlish puffed sleeves, then frills on either side of her pretty buttons and frills all round the bottom of her skirt. And…"

  There were deeply helpless moans and kicks from the captive in the mask as the 'little minx' pretended to listen again.

  "And Lyndon… guess what. 'Jenny Dress' wants to kiss your lovely little penis in its satin panty… She wants to spread herself over your panty, Lyndon… ohhhh, Lyndon, you are such a lucky girl today, because Jenny Dress says she wants to frig your naughty cock and turn you into a girl so that you can wear her. Would you like Jenny to frig your naughty prick, Lyndon?"

  There was mayhem in the dream sling as the youth tried every way he could to squeal: "Yes, yes, oh YES!" but discovered he couldn't get a word out. He bounced and swung crazily in all directions, nodding furiously so that Melissa couldn't possibly be mistaken about his desperation for Jenny Dress to frig his horribly naughty prick… and make it as girlish as could be.

  Doctor Harding, in the meantime, was ready for the moment, and as if by magic she had a frilly silk frock in her hand that could have been Jenny Dress herself, in pink and white check, with two little collars, one on top of the other, its buttons fastened down the front from neck to waist and its sash done into a huge bow at the back of its waist.

  "Oh there, little girl," cooed the amazing Melissa, and "There, there," added Samantha adding the pressure of her hand too, as the two 'little girls' pushed the pink and white dress out of shot, beneath the camera… … at the very moment that the doctor spread the cold silk of her dress over her captive's satin panty and garter belt.

  The youth instantly spread his legs as wide as the ceiling elastics would allow him, opening his panty to accept Jenny Dress at the hands, he thought, of his two girlfriends. A gurgled wail of desire escaped from his dummy saucer, and his head pushed back in its girly mask and chestnut ringlets to help him in the forward thrusts of his panty into the massaging that the doctor was giving him in the little silk dress. Wails and moans followed each other as Lyndon sucked and swallowed relentlessly and felt the lovely, lovely frills of Melissa's little dress caressing and loving his penis.

  "Lovely," grinned Jessica, following his spasmed reactions. "He won't be long… he's finding out how lovely it is to have his prick frigged in a dress by Melissa and Samantha. All part of his education." The boy's wriggles were interrupted by Vera's phone on her chairside table. She listened through the fool's commotion and whimpering, then turned it off and put it into her handbag, just in time for the peak of her stepson's pleasure, as bubbles of white jism rose up his tube, in a continual stream, and jetted in squirts into the plastic pod hanging above him.

  She laughed with pure satisfaction. "Brilliant, Jessica. Fantastic! He'll be begging for girls to lend him their dresses and play with him. But that was Lucinda calling from the main road. Alison has just turned off the road with the other male. She'll have him here in a couple of minutes."

  Lyndon Blonding was oblivious to this message; his penis was pumping squirt after squirt of his jism up his penis tube, imagining he was making love to his darling Jenny Dress. It was only as his stepmother reached the door and turned that the fervor of his orgasm receded into flurries of after pleasure and helpless attempts to squirt yet more of his cream into the dress. It made Jessica Harding laugh.

  "That's it for him now, for at least half an hour," she giggled as she turned off the video and put the little silk dress to one side. "Even the same stimulus repeated wouldn't bring him the satisfaction of a release," she explained to Nurse Feel, who was disconnecting his tube and releasing his penis from its tight rubber clasp.

  "Excellent, Jessica. You can do such wonders with them," cried Vera. "But we'll want him in the drawing room in about quarter of an hour, I should think. To start with, we'll keep the other pervert guessing… yes… so keep him in his mask with another teatful of Fem-Agra to drink. It'll do him good."

  As the door of the pantyfrilling chamber closed behind her, Lyndon Blonding was having his arms released and threaded into the shoulder tabs of a pink silk petticoat, buttoned for him at the back by his nurse, to be followed by a frilled dress which sent him into ecstasies as soon as he felt the frills of the skirt gathering over his head and sliding down his face onto his petticoat. She would prepare him for his meeting with his hero and savior, Mr Johnson. Doctor Harding had taken off her medical tunic and was slipping her wet panties down her legs and stepping into another pair for her meeting with the extremely welcome new male visitor.

  And the hapless youth? Weeping though he was, all was not lost in his shattered mind. He knew he would be all right in the end, because before she turned so beastly a day or two ago, his governess had taken his second letter to St Ursula's and given it to Mr Johnson.

  Mr Johnson! What on earth would his brave young teacher think of him if he saw him now, with blond hair bobbed sweetly round his chin and his skin and flesh so smooth and soft. His voice, and how soft it had become! And even a girlish face, which he was ashamed of when he saw himself in his dressing table mirror. But at least Mr Johnson would never see his penis… and the dreadful way it had grown so… so… Oh no-o-o-oooo, he had to admit it: so dreadfully tiny and girlish!

  Please come soon, Mr Johnson, he thought. I need you so desperately. You can save me from my stepmother and the other ladies and take me away from Dressing Manor.

  Next time: chapter 3: Mr Johnson to the rescue

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