Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your Yes, they saw that the leadership claimed to be massively tolerant and so they pushed at that very specific point – and they found that they could push and push and push until the tolerance that the leadership originally planned had been extended far beyond what was expected. And it goes on.” I stood nervously by as the two women joked, and as I fidgeted; the rustling petticoats continued their unceasing caress. The thought of actually going to a public restaurant while dressed as a young prepubescent girl disturbed me momentarily, but I knew I was powerless to alter their plans for me. In fact, the stirrings under my fluffy skirts spoke more of my concurrence rather than any complaint.

Blushing, I lowered my eyes in embarrassment. “Really dear, you should have been born a girl; wearing pretty dresses is only half the fun.” The gates of the school came into view. “You'd better let me do all the talking, dear. We wouldn't want you to give yourself away.” Yes, Ma'm, she'll be right down.” With that, Carolyn called up the stairs, “Come down, and Honey, we're ready to leave.” I'll keep in mind your request for a picture of two intimate sissies doing each other's bows. Sounds a lovely picture and story. Judging ‘typical’ first-time behaviour or experiences is almost completely befogged and misled by anecdata - that anecdote which is treated as data. I sometimes get upset that so many stories involve situations or responses by other people which are different from mine. I don’t feel unusual but on the other hand …….. I spoke about this to a friend who has studied some psychology and he said ‘it’s known as the Specific –General distortion.;

And here's a Prim pic and story from years ago which have never appeared in Prim's Petticoat Wendyhouse. In my fantasy I live with my step mother and step sister. I'm 14 years old. Lucy, my step sister, is nearly ten. Sheila, my step mother, does not particularly like me. When it was just me and my Dad I could do pretty much whatever I liked. Now Dad’s gone I still want to do the same, but Sheila won’t tolerate that at all. She’s trying to instil what she refers to as ‘proper discipline’ in me. Even as a young child I never got spanked, but Sheila’s had me over her lap with my trousers and underpants down round my ankles several times already. I was stunned, and could say nothing. I became aware of Lucy stood in the doorway, and tried to cover myself up. Sheila went to her cupboard and produced several carrier bags. “As I knew you wouldn’t choose a costume for yourself,” she said, “I've chosen one for you. You will go to Lucy’s party as White Rabbit. Lucy is going as Alice in Wonderland, so you’ll match perfectly!”

Being November, there was an autumn chill in the air, and as they stood in the entrance hall, Carolyn went to fetch her mistress' sable coat. She still needs time to rest and recover from her surgery. After that she will be in rompers and baby dresses all the time. I look forward to showing off my baby girl to everyone. Despite my embarrassment, I couldn't wait any longer. “I have to use the restroom,” I finally whispered.

I'm delighted to show you photos sent to me by a delicious girl with a million-dollar smile. This is Miss Jenni Dee.

I appeared at the top of the stairs. I was a lovely vision in white. The maid had certainly chosen well for there wasn't a hint of masculinity left in me, rather I (now her) looked the perfect little princess. The dress was all white lace accented by delicate pink satin bows across the bodice and at the puffy sleeves and hem. From their vantage point, the two women could easily view what must have been several layers of crinolines under the wide almost floating skirt. Around my waist was a four inch wide pink satin sash tied at the hip with a huge bow. I stepped carefully down the steps, my feet in white patent leather Mary Jane’s, highlighted by white anklets trimmed with a turned down pink lace cuff. manner after she told a joke. Carolyn also reminded me of when we ate I was to take small bites and small sips. She got me to drink some water out a glass in small sips. True – but I think there’s a real difference for the T group. First of all, there’s the rather obvious difference that for the LGB it is all about, or mostly about, the sex and what they do with their genitals. That’s not the case for the T. I’d prefer not to use the label ‘sexual’ but the rest of the world see the behaviour of the T as sexual, so I have to abide with that. Theirs is the only sexual fetish or sexual behaviour which occurs at least as much outside the confines of the bedroom as inside. And this confuses the well-bred ladies and gentlemen who do not wish to concede that anything outside their expectations can be done in public. Like that Victorian court case ‘you can do anything you wish as long as it doesn’t frighten the ladies or the horses.” I replied, "Well I suppose they would not really like the idea, my mom might be a bit sympathetic as she has said she wish she had a girl also, I have two brothers." Carolyn said, "Well you should just enjoy the feelings your clitty gives you” I replied, “My clitty, oh you mean my penis. That’s a better name for it and I love it when my clitty gets excited by my frillies.”Caroline got toilet paper and began to wipe me. She got me to roll over on to my stomach so she could get to my rear. I did not lie flat on the table as my clitty was making that difficult so I had my rear in the air. It was good as Carolyn wiped me. Carolyn said, “Just hold that position while I go get a cloth and some water. As I waited there with my rear in the air I wondered what the ladies had in store for me today. I was more confidant of going out to eat with my two kind hosts. Carolyn told to me to sit down at the vanity bench and I did so gracefully and in a girly manner. So,” said Sheila, “you didn’t ask for any help, so what have you organised to wear to Lucy’s party this afternoon?” What are we going to do? It'll be four days till it opens now,” I wondered aloud, a tone of alarm in my voice.

Aunt Mary interrupted, “Oh, don't worry then Father; I'm sorry we bothered you. I'm sure somehow we'll make do, Happy Thanksgiving.”One last photo of Jenni, who tells me that she craves the sissy life and would love to spend more time thinking sissy things.