From the past to the future, from sweet to hard. Here are eight new stories (of various lengths) with a very distinct sissy theme.

With the help of F.I.S.T. (the Female Institute for Societal Transformation) special boys like myself were given a bed, food, and an education. We wore the uniform of a white blouse, short plaid skirt, stockings, and stiletto shoes with pride. I was looking forward to celebrating my ‘bra-day’, but the course of my life changed when Auntie found Vicky in my bed, and I discovered the reason we were made into simpering sissies.

I thought my new shiny pink satin dress that my auntie bought me was too short, but she said that all the boys wore them these days. She said that they liked to show off their satin panties. It was just the most perfect dress to wear to Simon’s special occasion! But what special occasion did Simon have in mind? Would he like my dress? What dress would he wear? Would he like the pink satin ribbon in my hair and my pink satin bag? Just what naughtiness can two prissy sissies get up to together on a lovely sunny summer’s day?

Today is going to be wonderful because my Auntie has organised a fashion show in the evening, and I’m hoping she’ll let me model the pretty dresses and lingerie and nighties specially designed for boys! But first Auntie and I need to go into the village for some supplies. But really she wants to show off the dress I’m wearing to whet peoples appetite for the fashion show! It’s so short everyone will see my popsy! For the fans of Prissy Sissy and the audio-visual delights of the English Sissy Village series.

Receiving a text from Sasha, my girlfriend, at work was always risky. Especially when she wanted to know if her girlfriend was horny. A short and sweet (and filthy) story.

Living with two gorgeous lesbians would be any man’s dream come true. But the house rules of no male clothes and having to wear a chastity cage, meant that it would only be a sissy’s dream come true. And then, one special evening, it was my dream come true.

My sissy alter-ego, Tiffany, desperately wanted to go back to the motel where she’d been made to do such humiliating things. But would the same lady be there? When I got to my room I saw that the clothes on the bed weren’t mine. Judging by the cropped white blouse and very short plaid skirt they looked to be those of a slutty college girl. With them was a note – The Headmistress expects Tiffany in Room 7 for her detention. My heart jumped for joy. She was still here, and she wanted to play.