from Prim

"Stand in the middle where mother can see you in your dress."

Nigel Pleating did as his wife told him and stood with his pink Mary Janes together in front of his Mother-In-Law. The very sight of her first thing in the morning made his knees so weak. He dared to glance up at her clothing more than once as she sat in her sitting room: she wore her white silk shirt-blouse and salmon pink skirt and he secretly breathed in her fragrance: J'adore by Dior. She viewed him down the length of her aquiline nose, her blond hair caressing the back of her upturned blouse collar, then raised her hand to indicate with a circling finger that he was to pirouette while she viewed his dress. It was so humiliating, to have to show her the sash bow high at the back of his dress, his separated Peter Pan collar in white satin and just three little dress buttons that his wife had just done up for him as she dressed him for his morning humiliations. By the time he had done his circle Roxie had taken her seat behind him.

"Knees together," she said, "like the sissy you are."

"Slide them together," added Maude, her head to one side as if wanting to be entertained, "and hold your dress out to the sides to show me how sweet it is."

Nigel's dress and petticoat fluttered in a dainty rhythm as his smooth knees pedalled so that his hips rotated and the raised heels of one shoe after the other tapped back onto the floor. Both women were watching him with utter contempt at how deep his sex had sunk since before his wedding day. Maude signalled him to stop and he stood holding the sides of his dress by the satin hem of the skirt. Her face promised trouble ahead.

"Your wife tells me you have done something disgusting. Hadn't you better tell me about it?"

There was no getting out of it. Roxie had texted her mother from the bedroom first thing. He took a deep breath and did his best to calm his voice. "I-I had an accident while I was wearing your nightie, Mother." His head hung lower. "I-I did sissy cum-cum in your panty."

He heard Maude heave a breath of indignation then her tongue tutted. "That is crude male behaviour," she said, her voice level and threatening. "I've told you many times: I will not have you in my house as a male. So what must you be?"

"Female, Mother."

"And how do you show me you are a female?"

"I must be ever so feminine, Mother. And submissive."

"Exactly." She paused but it would have been rude for him to look up. "I want you to submit to the toe of my shoe. If you're a good girl, I may let you suck on my shoe later."

Her son-in-law fell to his knees in front of her, his petticoats sizzling as the lining of his dress opened out around him to reveal his white silk panties with ruched lace round each leg, and he lowered his lips to Maude's black patent pump.

"You need to make a full confession," he heard from Roxie. "Mother needs to know how pathetic you were."

"Indeed I do. Kneel up and tell me why you jismed in my night-panties."

Nigel Pleating knelt up and interlaced his fingers in an attitude of prayer. He had to confess his weak, disgusting behaviour every single day. Maude picked up his pink-backed hair-brush from her chair-side table and brushed his hair while he began.

"I loved wearing your pale blue nylon nightdress so much, Mother, I got over excited."

"Ohhh? Why were you so excited, pray?"

"Because it was yours, Mother, and you had been wearing it. And it was around my body. Then I pulled up your beautiful pale blue night panties, and I felt so like you in my panty area, I – I – I spent a little bit of sissy-girly jism into my precious panties. Ohh boo-hoo, it was because I knew I would be spending much of the day in front of you, Mummy, in – in my little girl dress and petticoat. You would see how ridiculous I am, how I'm not really a man but – but I'm better suited to being a girl: dainty and weak and –sob-sob – " and his crying overtook his powers of speech.

Maude and her daughter exchanged looks of long-suffering contempt over his head. "Well that's all very well," went on his Mother-In-Law, exchanging the brush for his comb, "but if you go spending little bits of jism, Roxie and I can't have that, can we? That's male behaviour and we will have no males in this house, is that clear?"

"Oh I promise, Mother, I promise."

"Hmm, I'm going to get you ready for dressing. Stand up and watch as I show you what you will wear this morning."

"Oh! Thank you Mother," and Nigel got sharply to his feet as Roxie put a question to him from behind.

"What does Mother mean by your dressing, Nigel?"

He was still facing Maude and she lifted her chin as if to receive his reply. He knew he was blushing as he spoke. "You mean dressing my precious girl's places, Mother." His pulse was racing as Maude's fingers rested on the top corner of the silver plastic cover that stood beside her chair: what had she chosen to dress him in today? She lifted and slid it off, to disclose two rows of her divine, utterly feminine panties.

A moan of emotion escaped him and his body dipped at the knees. He looked, his throat mewling helplessly, as his body squirmed with uncontrollable feelings. WHACK! SLASH! WHIP! His wife's wand slashed the back of his thighs, bringing him much better self-control in a matter of seconds.

"Stop blubbering and stand still," she said. "Stand up straight!"

"Ohhhh, your panties, Mother. Am I allowed to wear your panties? Oh how lovely!" He squirmed his hands together deep in the front of his dress, squeezing dress and petticoats deep between his legs.

"So," said Maude, her lips pursed as if in judgement as she watched and listened to him, "your perversion is so deep, you want to wear your my panties, is it?"

"Oh yes, Mother. Yes I doooooo!"

"I see." She exchanged another look with her daughter who was rolling her eyes at the depravity. "And are there any more sissy desires you want to admit to me?"

Nigel's hands left his dress to hold his face in his hands while he gathered his courage to lay his sissyness completely bare. His fingers separated, one hand to his cheek, the other to his throat, as he confessed. "I want to be a little girl for you, Mummy."

Maude pursed her lips again, partly to cover a smile. Roxie did the same, rolling her eyes again. "I can assure you, Mother, he deeply, deeply wants to be your little girl."

Maude waved him closer to her with two flicks of her fingers and looked up into his blushing face. "If you want to be my little girl, what do you need to ask me?"

It was the moment for his emotions seriously to challenge his control and he dipped a heavy squirm at one hip.

"OUCH!" he squeaked as Roxie whipped his legs. "I-I-I must - ask you to feed me my little girl juice," he whimpered.

"Goooood. So ask me properly."

His heart felt like it was beating in his throat. In a few moments he would feel so utterly girly in every part of his body. He couldn't wait. He held his dress out wide in the prescribed way, and dropped the lowest and most submissive curtsey he could – wondering if any other male in the country – in the world – spent their days at home like this. He sometimes wished his wife and her mother needed him to go out and work, in business, but no: they had his inheritance to live on: he would spend his days in petticoats and panties, either in this sitting room or in Maude's suite. "Please, Mummy, will you feed your little sissy son-in-law with his little girly girl-juice?"

There was no immediate reply so he stayed at the bottom of his reverence.

"Well I don't know. It doesn't seem to me that you want it enough."

"Oh I do, Mother. Pleeeeeeeeease give me my baby girl bottle of girlifying juice."

There was annoyance in Maude's voice. "Use the proper words!"

Her son-in-law almost choked with horror at going wrong. "Please, Mother, will you give your sissy son-in-law his little girly girl-juice so that he t-t-turns into a l-l-little girl for you?"

Maude sniffed and motioned him to stand in front of her. She slipped her hands under his petticoat and took down his panties. "Lie here," she said, "with your head on my lap. Roxie, pass me your husband's little girly girl-juice."

A moment later Nigel Pleating lay with his knees draped over the end of the settee and his head on Maude's salmon pink skirt, looking up into his Mother-In-Law's face as she opened out his pink satin feeding bonnet with its inside frame of white satin, and fed it under his hair to gather it under his chin and do the pink ribbons into a bow over the front of his Peter Pan collar. Next came his pink plastic shoulder-wide juice-cape with pretty plastic ruffles all round its full circle edge. It fastened over the front of his dress with three pop fasteners. He could hardly breathe he was so excited. Roxie pulled a low stool up close so that she could turn up the front of his dress and petticoats.

"There," she said; "we want to see what effect your little girl juice is having on your little dickie, don't we? Look at it, Mother – Nigel's little sausage – his chipolata."

Her husband knew only too well how small his sausage was, but now Maude had his bottle in her fingers – just a small bottle, his 300 millilitres a day which would leave him feeling so near to that long, deep, aching climax – but which would prevent him from ever getting there. Ohh the longing, the ache, the desire as Maude's perfume filled his nostrils from the bosom of her blouse, and the bottle teat pushed unavoidably between his lips. Roxie giggled to herself watching the stiffening of his cock as bubbles glugged in his bottle, and closed her fingertips round it as he drank. Then Maude removed his cape and set him on his feet. "Well now, sissy little girl," she asked, "what do you want your Mummy to do?"

"Ohh p-please, Mummy, can I be your little daughter? Please can I be Geraldine? Can I wear your lovely panties, Mummy?"

Maude forced a reluctant smile. "Does Geraldine want her Mummy to dress her in her frilly nylon panties – or in her shiny satin panties first?"

"Ohhhhhhhhhh, in your shiny satin panties please, Mummy." He stood before her as required as she fingered her panties, checking that each pair was so silky and so slippery, his dress lifted out in front of him to show his Mummy how eager his dickie was to be dressed in her panties.

She selected a full cut pair of panties in apricot satin, unclipping it from the frame and spreading it on her knee to see how feminine and precious it was. Such exquisite lingerie, so deeply feminizing for her son-in-law. She had him take the half step towards him, still holding up his dress and petticoat, and had him step into one smooth leg, then the other, for her to draw the cold, liquid satin up his bare legs. Over his knees and up his bare thighs. The panties approached his helplessly unprotected dickie, touching it, sliding over it, surrounding it in feminine sweetness, and a long, stifled moan escaped his throat.

He had to turn to show Roxie the point in Maude's apricot panties as he squirmed and bleated with floods of emotion. "Oh Mummy, I feel so GIRLY in your satin panties!" he cried, turning back to Maude. "I want to be your little girl, Mummy. Mmmmm! Ohhhhhhhh! Mummy, I'm Geraldine now, and I'm wearing your beautiful panties for you!"

Maude sat back in her settee as she and Roxie watched his abject wriggles of sexual un-gendering. Thanks to his juice, he couldn't finish his feelings of panty bliss, nor could he avoid the smiling contempt of the two women who would control his life from now on. Yes, for Maude Pleating, this was total satisfaction at having her son-in-law exactly where she wanted him: in the palm of her hand – or to put it another way: in the gusset of her panties.
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