Forced sissy training continues…”Time to look the part, bitch,” I sneer. I shove him into a tight, lacey corset, pulling the laces so hard his ribs groan and his waist cinches. I jam his feet into six-inch stilettos, forcing him to balance on trembling legs. I slap a pair of sheer stockings up his thighs, mocking the hair on his legs.
I push him back into the trance, snapping my fingers. “You are a girl. A pathetic, slutty little sissy.” I smear bright red lipstick across his mouth, purposely smudging it. I force a pair of oversized breasts—silicone inserts—into a push-up bra, tightening it until he can barely breathe.
“Look in the mirror, you disgusting freak,” I command. He stares at the feminized caricature I’ve made of him. I lean in, whispering filth about how he’ll never be a man again. He whimpers, but the hypnosis keeps him locked, his mind accepting the degradation as his new reality.
Rosemary
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