My Turn to Be Sissified

He had always heard it.

From the girls in high school— “You’re too pretty to be a guy.”
From his teammates on the soccer field—“Dude, you’ve got the face of a girl, no joke.”
Even from his aunt once at a family dinner—“If you were born a girl, you would’ve been devastatingly beautiful.”

But he shrugged it off. He had a girlfriend. He liked girls. Sure, he was smooth-skinned, lean, and had lips that girls envied and boys stared at too long, but he never thought much of it.

At college, things escalated. Parties, locker room teasing, even drunk friends jokingly asking if he’d ever tried wearing a skirt. His girlfriend, Emily, adored his looks but didn’t just stop there.

One night, she said it out loud.
"You know you're not like the other guys, right?" she whispered into his ear after making love. "You’re soft, delicate... too perfect to just be a guy."

He froze. But deep down, a slow warmth bloomed in his stomach.

Emily kept pushing. Not aggressively, not cruelly—playfully, persuasively.
"You’ve always been a sissy, baby. You just didn’t know it yet."

At first, he laughed. Until she brought out a pink satin panty set and said, “Just wear it for me.”
He resisted. But when she kissed his neck and whispered, “If you wear this for me, I’ll do anything you want tonight,” he found himself sliding into the panties like they were made for him.

And they felt right.
More than that, they felt like a home he never knew he missed.

That night wasn’t just the beginning. It was the unlocking of something that had been buried—no, protected—for years.

Emily became his Mistress. She slowly crafted his sissy persona, layer by layer. First panties, then silky bralettes. From there, garter belts, thigh-highs, and eventually full transformation lingerie that cinched his waist and perked his tiny chest into seductive curves.

“Look at you,” she’d purr, sliding her fingers across his smooth thighs. “You’re too hot to be wasted as a boring man.”

She named his alter ego “Lana”—her pretty little sissy girl.
And Lana loved being shown off.

One weekend, Emily took him to a secret club known for its wild, gender-bending nights. She dressed him in a lace mini-dress, towering heels, a plug in his tight little hole, and Koalaswim's camel-toe panties that gave him the illusion of a juicy little sissy slit.

Heads turned. Men stared. Women flirted. And Lana glowed.

Emily leaned in and whispered, “It’s your turn now. You were always meant for this.”

That night, Lana got her first taste of being more than just a girlfriend’s pretty toy—she was desired. Used. Cherished as the submissive, beautiful sissy she was born to become.

And the next morning, when Emily spooned him and traced a finger down his soft, bare hip, she whispered, “Told you. You’re not just my boyfriend anymore… You’re my sissy.”

He smiled.

Because she was right.

And he couldn’t wait to go deeper.



My Turn to Be Sissified – Part 2: Owned, Obeyed, Desired

By the time spring semester rolled around, Lana was no longer just a private fantasy. She was a secret lifestyle. And Emily, her loving, wicked Mistress, wasn’t done shaping her pretty sissy doll.

"You’re not hiding anymore," Emily told her one Friday afternoon, laying out a brand new package on their bed. Inside was a micro lavender minidress so sheer, it looked more like lingerie than streetwear—and beneath it, a pair of Koalaswim’s infamous Clit-Cut Camel-Toe panties, designed to flatten, feminize, and fake the real thing with startling precision.

"Tonight’s the real test," Emily said, smirking. “You’ll go out, not as my boyfriend… but as my girl.”

Lana’s heart pounded. But her cock didn’t—locked tightly in a glossy pink chastity cage, it hadn’t gotten hard in weeks. And truthfully, she loved that.

Emily did her makeup herself: shimmering lips, long lashes, just enough contour to make those already-feminine cheekbones irresistible. She slipped a blonde wig over Lana’s soft brown hair, then the panties, smoothing the bulge until it vanished, and the labia-shaped ridge bulged forward instead.

“God, you’re such a dirty little doll,” Emily whispered, grinding into her from behind. “All those years pretending to be a man... but this is what you were meant to be. My feminized slut.”

They went to a private, upscale kink party off-campus—an invite-only event for the beautifully depraved.

And Lana? She stole the show.

Her barely-there dress shimmered under the lights, her tucked illusion tight and high, her hips padded, her ass peeking just beneath the hem of her dress. The girls gasped in admiration. The guys couldn’t take their eyes off her. One whispered to Emily, “Where did you find her?”

Emily just smirked. “I made her.”

In a side room with velvet curtains, Emily pushed Lana down to her knees in front of three men. She pulled Lana’s head back by the hair and whispered in her ear, “Be a good girl now, sissy. Show them how badly you want to be used.”

And Lana did.

With her eyes wide, her mouth obedient, and her heart soaring, she gave herself to Emily completely. She wasn’t embarrassed—she was empowered. Each look of lust, each whispered "damn, she's hot" only cemented it deeper.

Later that night, Emily led her back home, dressed only in the panties, heels, and a cropped hoodie that barely covered her fake tits.

Lana cuddled into her Mistress, mascara streaked, lips raw, heart full.

“Do you still think you’re a man?” Emily asked, teasing.

“No, Mistress,” Lana whispered. “I’m your sissy. Forever.”

And Emily just kissed her softly and said, “Good girl.”



My Turn to Be Sissified – Part 3: The Sissy Showcase Weekend

Emily was always two steps ahead. Lana had thought she had peaked—she had been plugged, paraded, and praised—but her Mistress had only just begun unlocking her sissy destiny.

"This weekend," Emily said one morning as she tightened Lana’s corset and adjusted her cage, "you're going to be on display."

Lana's eyes widened. "Mistress... display?"

Emily pulled out a new package—this one shimmering silver, sealed in a sleek Koalaswim bag. She unwrapped it with a smile.

Inside: a full-body MTF transformation suit, soft like second skin, with built-in high cheeks, perky breast forms, a wasp-waist, and—most shockingly—a realistic, sculpted vagina, complete with lips, folds, and a teasing little clit, designed to sit flush where Lana’s locked sissy-cock used to be. No tucking. No tape. No bulge. Only the illusion of complete girlhood.

"It's called the Sissy Goddess Shell," Emily whispered. "And once you're in it, no one will see anything but my perfect little doll."

Sliding into the suit was an act of surrender. It hugged every curve, suctioned around her locked package, and transformed Lana into something otherworldly—feminine, irresistible, and utterly owned.

Then came the thigh-high stiletto boots, a latex mini dress with side zippers that exposed her sculpted labia with a tug, and a bright collar that read: Property of Mistress Emily.

The event? A private weekend retreat in the mountains—an invitation-only Sissy Showcase, where dominant women brought their feminized partners to show off, trade techniques, and revel in their creations. Some sissies were maids. Others were ponies. Some were gagged and plugged, on leashes.

And Lana? Lana was presented on the main stage, kneeling with her legs spread while Emily teased her new "clit" in front of the crowd, showing just how convincing the transformation was.

Mistresses clapped. Some touched. One even moaned, “She’s perfect, darling. The prettiest sissy I’ve ever seen.”

Lana didn’t speak. She simply looked up at her Mistress, mouth open slightly in the soft pout she’d trained herself to hold, and waited for the next command.

That night, Emily let others try her—under strict rules. Lana was fingered, licked, worshiped as if she were female. And afterward, as Emily cuddled her tight, Lana whimpered, “Mistress... I didn’t think I could ever feel this... real.”

Emily purred in her ear, stroking her plug, her cage, her thighs.

"You were born for this, my little slut. You were never supposed to be a man. You were always meant to be mine. A pretty little sissy. My doll. My girl."

And Lana knew it in her heart:
She had been sissified.
And she never wanted to go back.