Chapter Four

Princess, formerly known as Matt, opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. A dull, throbbing ache stretched across his pectoral muscles. The tight skin covering his chest pulled uncomfortably over the dense saline mounds buried beneath his flesh. The surgeon had sliced him open two weeks ago and inserted those oversized implants, turning his flat, masculine chest into a pair of enormous breasts. The foreign objects strained against his ribcage with every breath he took. He raised a pretty, manicured hand and traced a long, pink acrylic nail over the top of his left breast, feeling the unnatural firmness of the artificial tissue. He despised the feminine additions, but the tender sensation sent a thrill directly to his locked cock.

He adjusted himself on the mattress, causing the chastity cage to pinch the sensitive skin around his groin. He let out a soft, effeminate groan and reached down to shift the restrictive device. His long claws tapped against the hard shell trapping his useless penis. A dainty silk ribbon remained tied over the padlock. He hated the humiliating cage, but the plastic barrier provided a strange sense of comfort. It reminded him of his new place in this world. He was a sissy designed for the enjoyment of others, and his own pleasure was no longer a priority.

The bedroom door handle turned, and Prissy pranced into the basement. The pink-haired sissy wore a light blue sundress and balanced on blue plastic stripper heels, carrying a tray with two cups of milky coffee and a small plate of plain spinach leaves.

Prissy placed the tray onto the bedside table beside the former mechanic and offered a bright smile.

“Good morning, Princess,” the blue-clad doll chirped. “You need to eat your breakfast before Mistress calls us upstairs.”

Princess sat up against the headboard and winced. He had spent much of the last month or so trying to escape the crazed woman’s clutches, but his energy had been all but entirely sapped. He knew it was useless to fight futile battles, and he needed to bide his time to find the perfect opportunity to get out of there.

“My chest is sore today,” the feminized mechanic complained, refusing to use the word ‘breasts,’ or worse, to describe his new assets.

“You’ll get used to the girls soon enough,” Prissy giggled, grabbing a makeup wipe from the vanity. “I remember when I got my boobies done. I thought my skin was gonna rip wide open, but now I love having big tits, and eventually you will love it too.”

Princess knew that would never be true as he pushed the thin bedsheets aside and swung his bare legs over the edge of the mattress. His feet hovered an inch above the carpeted floor. The surgeon had altered his tendons during his last unconscious visit to the clinic, locking his arches into a permanent, steep curve. He reached beneath the bed frame and pulled out a pair of pink 6-inch stilettos with no platform, his toes pointing straight down. He stood upright, his hips naturally popping out in an extremely effeminate manner.

He hated the stilettos, yet his altered feet found instant relief inside the steep arches of the shoes. The pink spikes forced him to balance on his toes, thrusting his backside out and his chest forward. He walked toward the bathroom vanity, relying on the sway of his hips to maintain his prancing motion.

Prissy followed close behind and tossed a pile of flashy garments onto the counter. The doll picked up a pair of vinyl leopard-print panties.

“Put this on,” Prissy instructed, handing it out. “The dress Mistress picked out for you means you won’t be able to wear a bra, but I totally love this g-string.”

Princess grabbed the panties from the sissy. He lifted one stiletto-clad foot and then the other, guiding his sharp heels through the leg holes. He pulled the vinyl fabric up his smooth, shaven thighs and snapped the waistband over his hips. The restrictive material stretched tight across his locked groin. It compressed the cage, trapping his cock and pushing his smooth testicles backward between his legs.

“It pinches my skin,” Princess complained. “It feels suffocating.”

“But look how pretty and smooth you look down there,” Prissy chuckled, tapping the flat front of the panties, prompting Princess to shudder. “Now, lift your arms up.”

Princess raised his arms overhead. The blue-clad sissy helper slid another leopard-print garment down the former mechanic’s torso. The thin fabric did nothing to support his oversized chest. The dense mounds pushed outward, as his erect nipples poked prominently through the trashy, tight dress. The hemline ended high on his thighs, leaving his smooth legs exposed.

“Sit down on the toilet seat,” Prissy instructed, leading the other sissy down. “We need to fix your face.”

Princess obeyed and lowered his body onto the plastic seat. The short hem of his dress rode up his thighs, exposing the underwear concealing his crotch. Prissy stood between his spread knees and dabbed a makeup sponge across his cheeks. The cosmetic paste buried his natural complexion under an artificial layer. Prissy blended the foundation down his neck, carefully avoiding the pink satin collar that appeared to be permanently buckled around Princess’s throat.

“Mistress mentioned we might get to go out later,” Prissy gossiped enthusiastically. “Look up at the ceiling.”

Princess complied and tilted his head back. The other doll traced a dark eyeliner pencil along his lower lash line.

“I’m fine with not going out,” Princess replied. “I’m tired of shopping and walking around in these heels, and I don’t want everyone to see these things.” He gestured down at his prominent chest.

“Don’t be a brat,” Prissy scolded playfully, stepping back to admire the dark eyeliner. “We get to show off our pretty bodies to all the men out there. I saw a guy staring at your ass last time we went to the mall. He looked like he wanted to bend you over right there in the food court and fuck your tight little hole.”

A strange, unwanted flush of warmth flooded Princess’s chest. The thought of a stranger lusting after his feminized body should have disgusted him. A few weeks ago, he would have fought the idea with every ounce of strength in his diminishing frame. Today, the filthy compliment sparked a distinct thrill of validation deep inside his brain. His mind was desperate for approval. He found himself wanting to look desirable for anyone who would pay him any attention.

“Do you really think he wanted to fuck me?” Princess asked, unable to help but smile at the thought.

“Of course he did,” Prissy giggled, picking up a tube of sticky pink lip gloss from the counter. “You’re a sexy sissy. Now, pucker up for me.”

Princess pushed his swollen lips forward obediently. The other sissy dragged the applicator across the plush tissue, coating his mouth in a thick, wet shine. The gloss tasted sweet on Princess’s tongue. He smacked them together, savoring the flavor as he turned to look at the bathroom mirror. However, deep inside his conditioned mind, the proud mechanic was screaming for anyone to hear him out.

Princess stared at his trashy reflection. The sad man trapped inside his brain screamed for help, but the bimbo staring back from the glass only cared about looking like a total slut. He admired the stretchy fabric over his new tits. He liked the way his tight panties squeezed his testicles against his crotch.

“Now, eat your breakfast,” Prissy said, handing over the small plate of spinach.

“Can’t I eat something else?” Princess complained. “This is so boring.”

“A fat sissy is a useless sissy,” Prissy scolded. “Mistress put you on a strict diet, and you aren’t down to your target weight yet. You only get this until you reach it.”

“O-okay,” the feminized mechanic gave in.

“You look so fuckable,” his bimbo friend reassured him. “Now eat up. We need to be ready when Mistress rings her bell.”

Princess ate the rest of his pathetic meal. He found a strange comfort in Prissy taking care of him. He knew he should hate it, but having a fellow sissy share his experience felt weirdly reassuring. He finished the coffee and set the cup down. He was a locked, shaved, and heavily made-up doll, and he was ready to find out what humiliating tasks Sandra had planned for him today.

❖

The bell above the glass door chimed as Prissy pushed into the crowded coffee shop. Princess followed a step behind his pink-haired friend. He popped his hips outward in a sexy manner while navigating the tiled floor. The silicone plug Prissy had inserted into him before they left shifted inside his rectum, stretching his sphincter and sending degrading signals directly to his brain.

The line for the register stretched past the pastry display. Patrons turned their heads to stare at the two ridiculously feminized men. They were a picture of depravity and excess, and the reactions they received were varied—a businessman in a gray suit eyed Princess’s busty cleavage spilling over his dress. The man’s eyes drifted higher before a scowl appeared on his face. He noticed the Adam’s apple and knew exactly what he was staring at. Princess felt a familiar rush of shame burn in his chest. He hated the unwanted attention and despised those kinds of reactions. As he cringed, the scent of roasted espresso beans filled his nostrils, triggering a weird wave of familiarity; he used to spend a lot of time in places like this.

“Keep that chin up, Princess,” Prissy whispered, leaning close. “Mistress wants everyone to see what pretty little sluts we are.”

“Everyone’s staring at me,” Princess replied, keeping his voice quiet to avoid drawing more eyes.

“Well, duh,” the doll giggled. “You really need to learn to enjoy the attention.”

The two bimbos reached the front of the line. The teenage cashier blinked in shock. She stared at Princess’s artificial blonde hair and his injected pink lips.

“Uhmmm,” she stuttered. “Welcome to Sandy’s Coffee Shop. What can I get for you… ladies?”

“I’ll take a large iced latte,” Prissy ordered, pulling a twenty-dollar bill from a small purse. “And get my friend a diet iced coffee. We have to watch our figures.”

“Is that for here or to go?” the cashier asked, keeping her eyes fixed on the cash register.

“We’ll drink them here,” the confident sissy doll answered.

Prissy collected the plastic cups and led the way toward an empty table next to the window. Princess followed, wishing his companion had picked a spot in the corner or something. He pulled a chair out and sat down, crossing his legs and making sure the hem of his dress covered his crotch. Princess took a sip of his coffee, wishing he could eat or drink something he would actually enjoy instead of this watered-down diet crap.

A group of young college students occupied a large booth across the aisle. Four men wore backward baseball caps and athletic hoodies. They snickered in the direction of the two sissies and laughed loudly, ensuring the other patrons heard their dirty jokes.

“Look at the tits on that blonde dude,” a guy in a red hoodie sneered. “What the fuck are they supposed to be?”

“I think the blonde one wants you, bro,” another student joked, shoving his friend’s shoulder. “I bet that gay-ass mouth knows how to suck a dick.”

Princess clenched his nails against the plastic cup hard. The acrylic claws tapped against the condensation forming on the side. A surge of masculine rage flared in his mind. He remembered the calluses on his hands and the grit he possessed while working in the garage. He wanted to stand up, march over there, and smash his fist into the loudmouth’s jaw.

He shifted, preparing to stand out of habit. Suddenly, the pink choker around his neck beeped, and he froze. He hadn’t heard that beep in quite a while, and he knew exactly how it would end if he continued down this route. His behavior was being monitored, and he would be punished if he acted like anything less than a dumb, inviting sissy.

Princess released his grip on the cup and uncrossed his shaved legs. He forced his fake breasts forward to present himself to the loudmouthed frat brothers. His conditioned brain demanded submission if he wanted to avoid the agonizing electric current.

A crumpled paper napkin flew across the aisle. The trash bounced off the blonde sissy’s bare shoulder and landed on the table. The college boys erupted in laughter.

Princess looked at the napkin and opened it up, finding a message in black ink: “Show us more. My friend really likes you.”

As Princess glanced back, he saw one of the frat brothers gently jab his friend as if this was all some big joke to them.

“Show them you like it,” Prissy whispered, taking a sip of the iced latte. “Give them a wave. You know Mistress has eyes everywhere.”

Princess swallowed his pride. Now that it had been suggested to him, he had to do it. He raised a hand and wiggled his acrylic nails in a playful, effeminate wave. He forced his injected lips into a brainless smile.

Some of the college students groaned in disgust while the others doubled over laughing, wiping a tear from their eyes as they enjoyed the blonde sissy humiliating himself.

Princess lowered his hand, feeling a pathetic thrill vibrate in his chest. He obeyed his programming, playing the submissive slut for the loudmouths, and the compliance flooded his system with a twisted sense of validation. He took a long drink of his diet coffee, letting the cold liquid soothe his dry throat.

He turned his gaze toward the large window spanning the front of the shop. Pedestrians walked along the sidewalk, going about their normal routines. A black luxury sedan pulled up to the curb, pausing right outside the glass. The driver stepped out and opened the rear door. An older man emerged, wearing a tailored navy suit and an expensive silver watch, reaching a hand back into the vehicle.

A gorgeous woman stepped onto the pavement. She wore a sexy red designer dress, adorned with diamonds resting around her neck and cascading from her earlobes. She possessed golden blonde hair styled in immaculate waves, framing a face that featured a surgically refined nose and plump red lips. Her forehead remained smooth, frozen into an expression of unbothered arrogance. She ignored the driver and looped her arm through her companion’s elbow.

Princess stared through the glass, a wave of disgust rolling through his stomach. He hated snobbish women who used men for their wealth, finding her entitlement repulsive. She walked with a confident strut, her high heels stepping loudly against the concrete.

The couple walked past the coffee shop window, and the woman turned her head, offering a brief profile to the patrons inside. Princess gasped, his long pink nails clattering against the table as a spark of recognition pierced his conditioned fog.

He knew those eyes, and he recognized the shape of her jaw beneath the extensive cosmetic alterations. The blonde extensions and the inflated lips masked her true identity, but the mechanic’s instincts screamed the truth.

“Is—is that Chloe?” Princess asked, his voice shaking.

“Who cares about some rich bitch?” Prissy asked, stirring the iced latte with a green plastic straw. “Drink your coffee. We need to go look at some shoes.”

Princess kept his eyes locked on the window as the woman disappeared down the street, leaving him alone with his shattered reality. His fiancée looked like the exact type of person they had both previously despised. She looked like a younger version of her mother.

He looked down at his leopard-print dress, the contrast striking him with brutal clarity. Chloe was diamonds and silk, strutting around like she owned the world, while he sat in a local coffee shop, wearing trashy vinyl underwear and a chastity cage. Sandra had done a number on both of them, and the blonde sissy had no idea if he had the strength to fight back anymore.

❖

The driver opened the rear door of the luxury sedan, allowing Chloe to step out onto the pavement outside the urban country club. She smoothed her hands over her stylish red designer dress, feeling the expensive material trace the outline of her soft, augmented curves. The garment squeezed her ribs into an inward shape and pushed her prominent breasts upward to showcase her deep cleavage. Diamonds rested around her neck, with matching jewelry falling from her earlobes. She stood tall, glancing around, her cosmetically frozen forehead refusing to crease and her plump, red-painted lips locked into a perpetual pout.

She looped her arm through her date Evan’s elbow, enjoying the feeling of the older man escorting her down the street toward the grand entrance of the building. As they walked past the adjacent coffee shop, Chloe turned her head and glanced through the glass window. She spotted two ridiculous, effeminate men dressed in women’s clothing sitting at a table near the glass. One of the sissies wore a trashy leopard-print dress that fit well on his busty frame, although the choker around his neck did little to hide the obvious Adam’s apple.

Chloe curled her swollen lips in disgust. Why can’t men just be actual men? She despised the whole strip club OnlyFans vibe that some women try to portray, and seeing these two sissies dressed like that was just an insult to real women everywhere.

Chloe and her date reached the manicured walkway of the exclusive club. A young valet stepped forward to take the keys from their driver. Evan reached a hand into his navy suit jacket and pulled out a leather wallet, extracting a fifty-dollar bill to tip the attendant for his service.

The modified woman reached out and wrapped her manicured fingers around Evan’s wrist. Her sharp nails pressed against his skin, stopping the man’s movement before he could hand the cash over to the worker.

“Put your wallet away, Evan,” the blonde instructed, keeping her breathy, raspy voice low and sensual. “I don’t want you wasting your cash on these cretins. I want you to spend it on me.” She batted her eyelashes as she spoke.

Evan paused, looking down at the sexy fingers gripping his arm. A hearty chuckle erupted from his chest, loud enough for passers-by to notice. He handed the bill to the young man and nodded, silently telling him to get to work.

“We both know you have expensive taste, Chloe,” he smirked, guiding her toward the entrance. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I have more than enough wealth to keep you spoiled, and I plan to buy you anything those pretty red lips ask for.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Chloe purred seductively, continuing to bat her thick artificial eyelashes.

They bypassed the reception desk and stepped into the main dining area of the country club. It was a sophisticated ambiance that Chloe relished. This was where she belonged. Evan guided her toward a large circular table near the center of the room, leading her toward a group of his wealthy peers. Four older people occupied seats, drinking expensive champagne and laughing among themselves before noticing the new arrivals.

“Evan, you made it,” the oldest man of the group announced. The silver-haired man stood up and straightened his suit jacket. “And you brought a beautiful companion with you. I was starting to think that no one would be good enough for you.”

Evan pulled a high-backed chair out from the table, gesturing for his date to take her seat.

“Gentlemen, ladies, I would like you to meet my new girlfriend, Chloe,” the wealthy man announced proudly, taking his own seat right beside her.

“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Chloe,” the silver-haired man said, offering a warm but hungry smile as his eyes dropped to her cleavage. “I’m Arthur, and this is my wife, Wendy. She had a body just like yours once upon a time.”

Chloe chuckled as the woman beside the man jabbed him playfully in the arm. “Ignore him, Chloe. He’s not exactly the fine china he used to be either.”

“I think you both look wonderful,” the blonde bimbo purred, pitching her voice into a seductive whisper. “Evan has a particular taste, and I intend to keep him satisfied.”

The men at the table chuckled in amusement, eyeing her exposed cleavage with blatant lust. Chloe felt a rush of adrenaline pulse through her veins, loving how she held the attention of powerful men and reduced them to staring fools by existing in their space. She understood the lessons her mother had beaten into her mind, knowing her beauty functioned as a weapon that she intended to wield mercilessly to extract comfort and luxury from anyone who had some worth to his name.

A young waiter approached their table carrying a tray loaded with crystal flutes and a bottle of vintage champagne. The attendant leaned over to place a glass in front of the gold-digger, accidentally brushing his sleeve against her bare shoulder as he struggled to keep his eyes away from her breasts.

“Watch what you’re doing,” Chloe snapped, fixing the waiter with a cold stare. “If you were watching where you were going, you would know not to bump into me. You don’t have a right to stare at my chest.”

Arthur chuckled even as his wife showed an expression that disapproved of the young blonde’s harshness. “I like this one,” he said to Evan as the waiter poured the drinks and scurried off. “She’s feisty. Exactly what you need.”

“How hard is it to find competence in a place like this?” Chloe asked, taking a slow sip of the expensive alcohol. “You men work hard for your wealth, and this place should be grateful to have you.”

She set her glass down on the tablecloth and smiled at Evan. He offered a knowing smirk, clearly entertained by her cruel dismissal of the young man.

“She keeps me on my toes, Arthur,” Evan agreed, lifting his flute to propose a toast. “To finding a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to take it.”

“To Chloe,” Arthur echoed, clinking his glass against Evan’s.

Chloe picked up a small silver fork as she tucked into her first course. She pierced a piece of butter-poached lobster, lifting the rich food to her glossy lips. Her mother had instructed her to indulge in fine meals to build out her hips and thighs, and Chloe was more than happy to abandon her old diet. Real women have curves, she was told, and she was certainly filling out a set of her own.

She reached her hand under the table, resting her fingers on Evan’s thigh, moving them closer toward his crotch. She dragged her sharp nails up his leg, feeling the muscles tense beneath the fabric of his pants. She knew the older man wanted to take her back to his estate and fuck her wet pussy, and she planned to spread her legs and let him slide his cock deep inside her. That was just the price of being a valuable woman, and Chloe was starting to realize just how valuable she was.

❖

Pop music played through the overhead speakers as Prissy strutted into the fast-fashion boutique. Princess followed a step behind, swinging his hips in an exaggerated manner that felt all too natural to him. He adjusted his posture, feeling his bare, enhanced breasts bounce beneath his tacky animal-print dress. The lack of a bra left his sensitive nipples rubbing directly against the fabric, keeping them hard and erect for anyone to notice.

“Grab a shopping basket,” Prissy commanded. “Mistress gave us an allowance, and we might be here a while.”

“I can just carry things,” Princess suggested in return.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the pink-haired sissy scolded playfully. “We don’t know how much we might need. Now go get that basket.”

Princess sighed and walked over to the stack of red plastic baskets near the store entrance. He bent at the knees to keep the hem of his dress from riding up and exposing his vinyl panties. He grabbed a basket and looped the handles over his forearm, resting the container against his wasp waist. He followed his friend deeper into the boutique, navigating the narrow aisles filled with colorful garments. His stilettos clicked against the faux-wood flooring, demanding precise balance to accommodate his surgically locked arches.

Prissy stopped in front of a rack displaying a row of trashy, almost transparent tops. The feminized doll flicked through the hangers, pausing to examine a sheer pink halter top decorated with rhinestones that covered the most intimate areas of the chest.

“This would look gorgeous on you,” Prissy announced, holding the sheer fabric up against Princess’s chest. “It would show off your new tits while covering your nipples, kinda.”

Princess shuddered. It was unashamedly tacky. It was nothing like what he would have enjoyed seeing on a woman a month ago, but looking at the garment, he couldn’t help but gasp as his trapped, locked cock twitched at the sight.

“It’s gorgeous,” the blonde bimbo agreed, feeling a familiar flush of arousal at the thought of men staring at his augmented chest. “I don’t know if my tits will fit inside those cups.”

“It’s supposed to be tight, dummy,” his companion replied with a soft laugh, dropping the halter top into the basket. “You want men to see what you have to offer, don’t you?”

A middle-aged woman pushing a stroller walked past the pair, giving the two feminized men a wide berth. Princess lowered his head, hiding his heavily made-up face behind his blonde extensions. He could feel the woman’s judgmental stares, and the rational part of him felt ashamed over what he had become. He watched a young couple browsing a display of jeans in a distant aisle. The man wrapped his arm around his girlfriend, kissing her cheek while they shopped. Princess looked away, suppressing the horror of losing his own loving relationship. He knew Chloe was gone, and that he was trapped in this sissy bimbo nightmare.

Prissy moved to the next section, dragging her acrylic claws across a row of skirts and dresses. She pulled out a black faux-leather miniskirt featuring a silver zipper running straight down the front. She tossed the item into the basket without asking for an opinion. Princess adjusted the plastic handles on his arm, feeling the weight of the garments add to the strain on his altered feet. He shifted his weight from one stiletto to the other, trying to ease the burning ache in his calves.

“We need to find some hosiery,” Prissy muttered, scanning the displays along the back wall.

They walked toward the lingerie section. Princess kept his eyes focused on the floor, hoping to avoid eye contact with the few female shoppers browsing the store. He felt a lingering sense of masculine shame about his feminized appearance, but the constant hum of his programming pushed those thoughts aside. He wanted to look like a slut. He enjoyed wearing the tacky dress and the tight panties. His caged cock twitched again at the mere thought of his appearance.

Prissy picked out a pair of white lace thigh-high stockings and a matching garter belt, tossing both items into the basket. She then grabbed a matching white lace bra, holding the cups up to measure the size against Princess’s expansive bust.

“You’ll need this to keep those girls lifted when you are not wearing that dress,” Prissy explained, adding the bra to the collection.

“I think we have enough,” Princess said, looking down at the pile of clothes resting against his hip. “The basket is getting full.”

“We can never have enough, Princess,” her companion replied with a smile. “But whatever, let’s check out.”

They walked up to the checkout counter. A male store clerk stood behind the register, chewing on a piece of gum while tapping his fingers against the surface. He wore a fitted black T-shirt that showcased his muscular arms, and a silver chain rested around his neck. He looked the two sissies up and down, a sleazy smirk spreading across his face as his eyes lingered on Princess’s prominent chest. Prissy noticed the man’s expression instantly and smiled.

“Did you ladies find everything you need?” the clerk asked.

“We found some wonderful things,” Prissy answered.

Princess lifted the basket and placed it on the counter, feeling grateful to rest his aching arm. He stood beside his friend, crossing his legs to present a feminine silhouette to the man. He felt the clerk’s gaze travel down his body, assessing the curve of his hips and the length of his smooth, shaven legs. A knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach, mixed with an undeniable surge of submissive thrill as he realized he was being evaluated and appreciated.

The clerk picked up the scanner and began ringing the items up, tossing the garments into a number of paper shopping bags. The machine beeped as he processed the last of the selected pieces.

“Your total comes to two hundred and forty dollars,” the clerk announced, leaning his elbows on the counter.

Prissy unclasped her small purse and pulled out a wad of cash. The pink-haired sissy counted the bills, a frown forming on her glossy lips.

“Uh oh. I only have a hundred and fifty,” Prissy admitted, looking up at the clerk. “Mistress didn’t give us enough money.”

“Mistress? What is wrong with you two?” the man said. “If you can’t afford it, you’ll need to put some of this back.”

Prissy glanced between the man and Princess, and a subtle smirk crossed her pretty lips. Mistress had planned this. She had to.

“Are you sure we can’t work something out?” the exaggerated sissy asked the man, softly biting her lips as she glanced at Princess.

Princess looked around as if he were oblivious to the situation. He noticed Prissy staring at him. “Huh? Me?”

The store clerk chuckled as he studied Princess up and down.

“Well, I’m sure we can work something out.”

❖

The clerk shoved Princess backward into the cramped fitting room. The blonde sissy stumbled on his pink heels, swinging his arms to catch his balance before his bare shoulders collided with the long mirror mounted on the wall. What the hell am I doing here? Princess thought to himself. Why do I keep getting into these situations? After locking the cubicle, the muscular man pressed his body up against Princess’s chest, taking the blonde’s hands in his own and raising them above his head.

“I’ve always dreamed of sleeping with a sexy sissy,” the worker said, softly biting his lips. “My friends would never let me live it down, but this is gonna be our little secret, isn’t it, bitch?”

“Yes,” Princess gasped out. “Our secret…”

The man chuckled, his gaze darkening with lust. “That’s right. Now how good are you at pleasing real men?”

The clerk pressed his hips forward, trapping the feminized doll against the glass. Princess felt the firm shape of the man’s arousal through his khaki jeans, grinding against the slutty animal-print dress. Excitement shot down Princess’s spine. The mechanic buried deep inside his mind screamed in protest, exclaiming that he had no interest in men and that this wasn’t right. He possessed a fleeting urge to shove the smirking worker away and get as far away from this store as the heels would take him. However, the other side of him, the side he couldn’t control, instantly silenced those protests, flooding his brain with the degrading thrill of submission.

The worker released Princess’s wrists. The blonde sissy kept his hands raised submissively against the mirror, exposing his torso to the predator. The man lowered his gaze, his eyes fixated on the prominent mounds poking against the dress. He reached out and grabbed the saline assets, squeezing the tits with a manhandling force.

“Let’s let these babies breathe,” he grinned as he pulled the trashy dress down, exposing the fake F-cup breasts in the fitting room. “Mmmm, yes baby.”

The clerk ducked his head and took one of Princess’s nipples into his mouth, sucking with an appetite that bordered on greedy. Princess gasped and arched his back, his hands still raised against the mirror as if he had forgotten how to use them. The man’s tongue worked the sensitive nub, grazing just enough to send sparks down Princess’s spine, and the blonde sissy felt his knees threaten to buckle beneath him.

“Ahh, that’s sensitive,” the sissy whimpered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

The worker pulled off with a wet pop and grinned up at him. “Yeah? Good. Sensitive is the best state for a dumb bitch like you.” He switched to the other breast and gave it the same treatment, laving and biting until both nipples stood swollen to attention. Princess’s trapped cock strained against his panties, aching for a release that he knew he wouldn’t receive.

The clerk straightened up and spun Princess around with a rough hand on his shoulder. The sissy found himself facing the mirror, his cheek pressed against the cool glass, his tits squashed against the surface. He could see his own reflection, could see the debased creature he had become, and he felt his arousal spike at the sight.

“Stay there,” the man ordered, working his belt buckle behind Princess.

The blonde heard the zipper descend, heard the rustle of fabric, and then felt the clerk’s bare cock pressing against his vinyl-covered ass. The man ground against him, the hard length nestling under the dress and between Princess’s cheeks.

“Please,” the sissy whispered, not knowing what he was asking for.

“Please what?” the store attendant laughed, grabbing a fistful of blonde hair and pulling the feminized man’s head back. “Please fuck you? Please use this tight little sissy hole?”

Princess didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, but his silence was taken as consent. The worker reached down and yanked Princess’s panties to his knees, exposing the chastity cage and the plug that Prissy had inserted earlier. The locked device looked obscene, and the man chuckled when he saw it.

“Locked up tight,” the man said, running his finger along the edge of the cage. “Just how a slut like you should be. Can’t get hard, can’t cum, just a hole for real men to use.”

He pulled the plug out in one rough motion that made Princess gasp, and slipped it between the sissy’s pink-painted lips before the former mechanic could protest. “Here, hold this for a minute,” the worker laughed as he pushed the plug further between the lips.

The silicone toy stretched Princess’s jaw, filling his mouth with the taste of his own humiliation. He gripped the plug with his teeth, his eyes watering as the clerk positioned himself behind, lining up with the entrance that the toy had kept stretched and ready.

“Don’t drop it,” the man warned, his hands finding Princess’s hips and pulling him back into position. “You drop it, and I have to punish you. You don’t want to be punished, do you?”

Princess shook his head, the movement causing the plug to shift between his teeth. He watched himself in the mirror, watched the humiliated expression on his face, and felt his caged cock twitch with a frustration that had become familiar.

The clerk didn’t wait for further invitation. He pushed forward in a single thrust that drove Princess against the mirror, his tits flattening against the glass, his breath fogging the surface. The stretch burned, and Princess moaned around the plug in his mouth.

“That’s it,” the man groaned, his fingers digging into Princess’s skin. “Take it all, you little whore. Take every inch of me.”

The man began to move, his hips snapping against the blonde’s ass with a force that drove the air from his lungs. Each thrust pushed Princess harder against the mirror, his cheeks slamming against the surface.

“Mmmph,” Princess tried to speak around the plug, but the silicone turned his words into muffled nonsense. The clerk seemed to enjoy the sound, laughing as he increased his pace.

“Can’t understand you, bitch,” the man panted. “Don’t need to anyway. We both know what you’re good for.”

Princess closed his eyes, trying to block the image of himself in the mirror, but the sensations were overwhelming. The clerk’s cock filled him completely, stretching him around the intrusion, hitting places inside that made his knees weak. The chastity cage remained locked and secure, a constant reminder that his own pleasure was irrelevant, that he existed only for the use of others.

The worker reached around and grabbed the sissy’s caged genitals, squeezing the plastic prison in his fist. “Look at this,” he taunted, giving the cage a shake that made Princess whimper. “So desperate. So pathetic. You love this, don’t you? Being fucked like a girl? Being used like a dumb whore?”

Princess couldn’t answer, couldn’t deny it even if the plug hadn’t been gagging him. His body was responding, his hips pushing back to meet the man’s thrusts, his own arousal building despite the cage. The conditioning had done its work too well, had trained him to associate degradation with pleasure until he could no longer separate the two.

The clerk’s movements became erratic, his breath coming in short gasps. “I’m gonna fill this sissy cunt, and you’re gonna take every drop. You got that?”

Princess nodded even if he didn’t fully hear what the man had said to him. He felt the store worker swell inside him, felt the pulse and heat as the man found his release, flooding Princess with evidence of his complete submission. The clerk groaned, his hips jerking through his orgasm, and then he slumped forward, pressing Princess against the mirror with his full weight.

For a moment, they stayed like that, both breathing hard, the man’s cock still buried inside Princess’s ass. Then the muscular worker pulled out with a wet sound that made the blonde flush with shame, and stepped back to adjust his clothes.

The clerk reached out and plucked the plug from Princess’s mouth, keeping the blonde bent over as he slipped the toy back inside, trapping his cum inside the former mechanic’s ass. “You did good,” he said, zipping his jeans. “Real good. Consider those clothes paid for.”

Princess gasped as the silicone toy slid past his sphincter, locking the warm fluid deep inside him. The humiliating pressure served as a constant reminder of the degrading transaction his sissy BFF had convinced him to perform.

The store attendant fastened his belt buckle and wiped his hands on his denim thighs. He looked down at the blonde bimbo still leaning against the mirror, his expression shifting from lustful dominance to casual indifference.

“Pull your panties up and get dressed,” the worker ordered, stepping toward the locked door. “I need to get back to the register before my manager fires me. See you around, sissy.”

The retail employee unlocked the fitting room door and stepped out. The door clicked shut, leaving the ruined sissy alone in the cubicle.

Princess pushed himself off the mirror, his legs trembling. He reached down and grabbed his shiny underwear, pulling the tight fabric up his shaven thighs to secure the chastity cage. He grabbed the dress hanging around his waist and lifted the tacky garment over his sore breasts. He stared at his reflection, noting the smeared makeup and his swollen lips. He had traded his body for a discount, and his mind seemed to just accept it, like it was no big deal. He had changed so much, and he wasn’t sure he would ever figure out how to bring himself back.

❖

Three sharp knocks echoed through the foyer of Sandra’s townhouse. The woman walked across the tiles of her hallway and pulled the front door open. Chloe stood on the porch, looping her arm through Evan’s elbow. The man wore a dark burgundy suit that appeared to match Chloe’s red dress. Sandra offered a warm, welcoming smile, reaching forward to give her daughter a hug.

“Chloe, darling,” she started. “It is wonderful to see you.” She turned her attention to the man as she broke off the embrace. “And it’s nice to see you again, Evan. Welcome to my home.” She stepped aside. “Please, come in, both of you.”

Chloe stepped past her mother and crossed the threshold into the familiar foyer. The scent of floral perfume filled her nostrils, triggering a sudden, blurry memory in her mind. She paused, experiencing a strange sense of déjà vu. She pictured herself standing in this exact spot, holding hands with a tall man wearing a grease-stained flannel shirt. The image felt distant and confusing, like a forgotten dream trying to force its way to the surface. She furrowed her cosmetically frozen brow, pushing the intrusive thought away. She had no interest in figuring out the meaning of weird abstract dreams.

“This way,” Sandra said, gesturing toward the dining room. “Dinner is ready.”

The dining room table had been set for three, with crystal glasses and silver cutlery arranged with precision. Evan pulled out a chair for his date, and the blonde settled into her seat with the grace that her mother had spent weeks drilling into her. The older woman smiled at the interaction and took her place at the head of the table, pouring champagne into her flute.

“I hope you both enjoy the meal,” the hostess said, raising her glass. “The staff have been working on it all day.”

“Your staff?” Evan asked.

Chloe paused, narrowing her eyes in the direction of her mother, although the Botox kept her face relatively frozen. “Mother,” she said. “Please tell me you don’t still have those two freak shows running around the house. I don’t think Evan would appreciate seeing that.”

Sandra laughed, the sound musical and indulgent. “They’re not freak shows, darling. They’re very helpful, and I think Evan might find them rather amusing.”

Before her daughter could protest further, the kitchen door swung open. Prissy entered first, pushing a cart laden with appetizers. The pink-haired servant wore a tight latex black-and-white French maid uniform that left very little to the imagination. The fabric stretched tight across her breasts, white lace trim decorating the edges of her short skirt. Her black stiletto heels clicked against the hardwood in the gait that her training had made automatic.

Behind her came Princess, his own uniform identical, except in hot pink. His blonde hair was pulled into ridiculous pigtails that made Evan snort with laughter when he saw them. The sissy could hear his former fiancée’s voice, and his gut twisted in humiliation. She was with another man, and he was dressed as a ridiculously feminine servant. This wasn’t how it was meant to be. Sandra beamed widely while Princess kept his eyes fixed on the floor, carrying a tray of oysters, his altered feet forcing him to mince across the room with short, swaying steps. He could feel the eyes of the diners on him, could feel their judgment and amusement, but his conditioning kept him moving and silent.

“Well,” Evan chuckled. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Mother has quite the imagination,” Chloe said, her voice carrying a note of pride that would have been absent two weeks ago. Although she hoped her mom’s weird quirks wouldn’t put Evan off, she did find it amusing seeing beta men put in their place.

Sandra gestured for the pink-haired maid to begin serving. “This one with the ridiculous hair is Prissy. She’s been properly trained for some time. The blonde is Princess. She’s newer to service, but coming along nicely.”

The man in burgundy leaned back in his chair, his eyes traveling over the hot pink uniform with frank appraisal. “Princess? That’s perfect. Look at those breasts. They’re magnificent.”

“Fake, of course,” the hostess chuckled, as if discussing the material of a tabletop. “The surgeon did excellent work. She looked very unsightly when she arrived.”

The blonde maid set the tray of oysters on a sideboard and began serving, his hands trembling as he placed the shellfish before each guest while they talked about him. The pigtails bounced with each mincing step, drawing another snort from the man in the suit.

“Do they do anything else?” Evan asked, accepting the plate from the servant’s trembling hands. “Or just serve dinner?”

“Whatever I require,” the older woman said, her smile widening. “They’re quite versatile.”

Her daughter watched the servant in pink move around the table, her gaze critical and assessing. She saw the obvious signs of masculinity that the makeup couldn’t hide, the jawline that was subtly too strong, the shoulders that were too broad, and a shudder ran down her spine. She couldn’t explain it, but a small sense of sorrow rested in her gut, as if she should feel empathy for this pathetic sissy. She shook her head. That was nonsense.

“Look at you,” Chloe addressed the sissy, her voice carrying a cruel amusement that felt natural on her tongue. She leaned forward, her red dress pushing her own cleavage up. “Dressed like some fetish slave girl, mincing around for your betters. Do you enjoy this? Being displayed like this for my boyfriend?”

Princess kept his eyes low, even as the mention of Chloe’s boyfriend felt like a stab to the gut. He desperately wanted to end this, but the conditioning in his mind fought with him. “I serve at Mistress’s pleasure.”

“And what about your own pleasure?” the blonde pressed. She looked down and grinned, noticing that the sissy wasn’t wearing any panties and the tiny chastity nub was barely visible beneath the latex dress. “Or have you forgotten what that feels like? Look at you, locked up in that cage, your cock useless and contained. A real man would never let a woman do this to him. You must be enjoying your new self.”

The former mechanic flinched at the word, his body going rigid. He wanted to scream that he had tried, that he was still trying, that the man she described was still trapped inside this ridiculous costume. However, the other part of him caught the words in his throat, replacing them with the conditioned responses that had been drilled into him during endless hours of training.

“I exist to serve, Ma’am,” he whispered, and he hated how automatic it sounded.

Evan laughed, the sound booming in the dining room. “I like that one, Sandra. She knows her place.”

“She does,” Sandra agreed, taking another sip of her champagne. “Now go back to the kitchen, Princess. Wait there with Prissy until we need you to clear the plates. Don’t make a sound.”

The sissy curtsied, grabbing the edges of his short latex skirt before retreating through the swinging door.

“You run a fascinating household, Sandra,” Evan noted, picking up his fork to taste the oyster. “It’s hard to believe men exist in this world that crave that kind of lifestyle.”

Sandra smiled at the man. “Ohh, you have no idea,” she chuckled to herself.

Chloe took a bite of her food, savoring the rich flavor on her tongue. The dinner progressed with conversation about luxury vacations and expensive jewelry. She played her part well, hanging on Evan’s every word and leaning in to him when she felt more affectionate. She relished her new life, her old way of being fading into a faint, foggy memory.

As the main course concluded, the older man rested his hand on Chloe’s bare knee under the table. She leaned into his touch, rewarding his affection with a soft nibble on his neck. He dragged his fingers higher up her thigh, pressing closer to her wet pussy, silently promising what was coming later that night.

“Excuse me for a moment,” the blonde beauty announced, placing her linen napkin on the table. “I need to use the powder room to fix my lipstick.”

“Don’t be gone long,” Evan smirked, giving her thigh a gentle squeeze. “I miss you already.”

“I’ll be right back,” Chloe promised, standing up from her chair.

She smoothed over her red dress and walked out of the dining room, leaving her mother and her wealthy suitor to continue their conversation. Her high heels tapped a steady cadence against the floor as she headed down the corridor toward the upstairs bathroom, feeling like a queen reigning over her newfound kingdom.

❖

Chloe leaned toward the mirror, her red lips parted as she applied a fresh coat of gloss with precise strokes. The bathroom was spacious, all marble and gilt fixtures, the kind of powder room that existed to impress guests rather than serve any practical function. She blotted her lips on a tissue and adjusted her dress, smoothing the fabric over her hips with satisfaction.

The door clicked as it opened behind her.

She turned, expecting to see her mother or perhaps Evan, but instead found the blonde maid from dinner standing inside the doorway. The sissy’s chest heaved beneath the hot pink latex, his pigtails askew, his eyes wide with a desperation that hadn’t been there during the meal.

“What are you doing in here?” Chloe said. “Get out!”

The sissy didn’t move. He stood with his back against the door, panting softly as his fake breasts rose and fell in the ridiculous uniform.

“You seriously don’t recognize me?” he said, and his voice was different now, stripped of the breathy submission from downstairs. “Chloe, please. We have to get out of here.”

“Get out of here?” Chloe laughed hysterically. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re insane. Get back to the kitchen.”

The sissy moved with sudden speed, crossing the space between them in three quick steps. His hand shot out and grabbed the woman’s arm, his fingers digging into the bare skin above her elbow with a strength that surprised her.

“Stop, Chloe,” he hissed in desperation. “Just stop and look at me. Really look.”

Chloe tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. “Let go of me. I’ll call for Mother.”

“Mother,” the sissy laughed, a bitter sound that held no humor. “Listen to yourself. You used to hate her. We hated her together.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The blonde struggled against his grip, her heart starting to race. “You’re crazy. Let me go.”

The maid’s eyes bored into her, blue and familiar in a way that made her stomach clench with something she couldn’t name. “It’s me. It’s Matt. Your fiancé. We were engaged, Chloe. You have to remember.”

The name hit Chloe hard. Matt. She knew that name, knew it in the way that one knows words from dreams, distant and disconnected from reality. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the sensation.

“You’re crazy,” she said, but her voice lacked the certainty from moments before. “You’re one of my mother’s dumb sissy whores. Do I look like I would marry someone like you?”

“We were going to get married,” the sissy said, his grip tightening on her arm. “I fixed cars. You were going to be a social worker. We were happy, Chloe. We were in love. Your mom did this to us. She drugged us and changed us, and we have to get out before it’s too late.”

Chloe stared at him, at the jawline that was too strong beneath the makeup, at the eyes that held a pain she couldn’t understand. She felt something shifting in her mind, memories trying to surface through the fog of conditioning. It just sounded too far-fetched.

“You? A mechanic? Me? Working like some poor, insufferable social worker? Are you out of your mind?” she told him, even if her words felt hollow. “If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable.”

The sissy’s pouty face was crestfallen, his grip loosening for just a second before tightening again. “Chloe, please. Look at my eyes. You know me. We were going to spend our lives together. Don’t let your mom take that from you.”

She looked, and for a moment, she saw it. She saw the man behind the slutty makeup, the ghost of calluses on his now soft hands, the shape of a face she had once kissed with tenderness. She felt a headache building behind her eyes, a pressure that spoke of memories fighting to break free.

Then she looked away, and the moment passed.

“You’re pathetic,” she said, and this time her voice was strong, certain and cruel. “You’re not a real man, and you never were. You must be enjoying your new self. Look at you, dressed like a slut, begging for attention. You’re nothing but Mother’s sissy maid.”

The maid’s eyes widened as he thought he almost had her. “Chloe, please—”

She didn’t let him finish. She pulled her arm free and stepped back, her hand going to her throat, her eyes widening with practiced fear.

“Help!” she screamed, the sound high and piercing in the small space. “Someone help me!”

Princess froze in terror as the scream echoed off the marble tiles. He reached his hands out, desperate to quiet the arrogant woman.

“No, stop,” the feminized mechanic pleaded. “Princess would never hurt you. I mean, I would never do that.”

The words died in his throat. He realized he had referred to himself in third person by the degrading name Sandra had given him. The slip proved the depth of his brainwashing. His mind was fractured, and the obedient bimbo persona fought for control over his tongue.

The bathroom door burst open with a force that cracked the wood against the tile. Evan filled the doorway, his suit jacket open, and his face dark with fury. He took in the scene in an instant: the sissy reaching for Chloe, her frightened expression at what was happening.

“What the fuck,” the man growled dangerously.

“He grabbed me,” Chloe said, her voice trembling with manufactured terror. She pressed herself against the counter, her hand at her throat. “He followed me in here and tried to trap me. He was saying crazy things, touching me. I don’t know what he wanted to do.”

Evan didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room and grabbed Princess by the throat, lifting him off his high-heeled feet with ease. The sissy’s feet dangled, his pink heels kicking against the wall, his hands clawing at Evan’s grip.

“Please,” Princess gasped, his voice barely audible through the constriction. “Please, I was just—”

“Just what?” the man snarled, slamming the servant against the wall hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. “Just trying to hurt my girlfriend? You want a piece of this ass? You think you can touch what doesn’t belong to you?”

Princess’s face turned red, his eyes bulging as Evan’s fingers dug into his throat. He kicked out weakly.

“Evan,” Chloe urged. “Don’t kill him.”

The man in the suit relaxed his grip just enough to let the sissy breathe, but kept him pinned against the wall. He leaned in close to Princess’s ear, his voice dropping to a whisper that made the pink-clad maid shudder.

“I think it’s time to show what happens to sissies who touch what doesn’t belong to them,” Evan said, his breath hot against Princess’s face. “Time to remind you of your place.”

End of Chapter Four.