Mistress Psyche's Feminization Fantasies

 Home

Sissy Girl Stories

 Links 

A Girl’s Dilemma

By Nina

In 1903, a few days after my twelfth birthday my mum called me into the parlour. “John, sit down I have some good news for you. Your aunt Helen has found a job for you. Since we needed the money I accepted it. It is easy work and you will live in a fancy house. You will have a day off every Saturday.” “What will I be doing?” I asked. “You will be like a, ah, junior butler. I imagine you will answer the door and escort visitors, help serve meals and all sorts of things.” Mum seemed evasive and I wondered about it. I particularly didn’t like the idea that I had no say in the arrangement. But then I was just a twelve-year-old boy and my opinion didn’t count. “Now put on your best clothes. You will be furnished a uniform so you won’t need any other clothes. Their driver will pick you up at two.”

Promptly at two an open carriage stopped at our door. I kissed mum goodbye and ran to the carriage. “Master John?” the coachman asked. I nodded and said “Yes Sir.” In a moment we were on our way, to where I had no idea. The horses moved briskly along the city streets and soon we were in the country. I was amazed at all the green. As a poor city boy, I had never been far from my house, let alone in the countryside. Many minutes later we drew up in front of a mansion, the likes of which I had never even imagined. The coachman led me to the front door. “This is probably the only time you will enter the front of the manor house. All help uses the rear entry, but since the master and his lady are away for the afternoon we take liberties.” The place was grand and I would be staying here! The butler, George by name, led me to my room on the third floor. It was small and not elegant like the rest of the house but it looked comfortable, albeit a bit girlish. “Miss Rose, Our lady’s personal maid will be here in a few minutes to get you settled.”

Miss Rose entered without knocking; after all I was the bottom button on the servant list. She was a lovely young woman of perhaps twenty-five years. Young as I was, I was amazed at her shape. “Mum and my sister Alice wore corsets but nothing like she must be wearing,” I thought. Her waist was absolutely tiny. “You must be John, the new page. We haven’t had one for several months ever since Grace, our page girl left us.” So I was to take over a girl’s job. If she could do it, I could do it. Miss Rose continued, “ There is one little catch. I don’t imagine any one bothered to tell you, although it wouldn’t have made any difference since you really had no choice. Your parents agreed and that’s all that counts. Our mistress insists that her page be a girl. Young girls for staff are very hard to find. We couldn’t locate one so we hired a boy, you. Of course she doesn’t know about you being a boy.” In the back of my mind a picture was forming. Was I going to pose as a girl? Miss Rose continued, “You are rather short and have delicate facial features.” With that she left the room briefly, returning with a basket full of feminine things. I was right, I was to become a girl page and here were my clothes. I protested vehemently. Miss Rose reminded me that my work papers were signed by my parents committing me to two years as a page for Mr. and Mrs. Smythe. Since I was very agitated at that point Miss rose called in another maid, Lynn. Between the two of them, amid my continued protests, I was soon undressed.

A chemise was slipped over my nude body. Miss Rose took a corset from the basket saying, “These are Grace’s things. You and she are about the same size so they should fit you nicely.” Miss Rose wrapped the corset around me and fastened the front hooks. The corset was extremely long and seemed to envelope my whole body. Miss Rose began pulling the laces. Before long it became very uncomfortable and left me short of breath. I resumed my protests to no avail. She just kept tightening the laces, not even pausing when I began crying. Finally she stopped saying, “that’s enough for now. As soon as you get used to it I’ll pull you in some more. I felt I would never get used to it. The corset was so long and stiff that I was unable to bend. Miss Rose decided I would need help putting on my stockings. As she drew them up my legs and fastened them to the suspenders that hung from the corset bottom I was surprised at how soft and pleasant the silk felt against my legs. With the stockings in place I stood up. The pain of the corset was subsiding and was being replaced by an indescribable sensation as yet unknown to me. Before I had a chance to possibly enjoy the feeling I was brought back to reality as Miss Rose began tightening the corset again. Finally she stopped and picked up a tape measure. “You now have a twenty-one inch waist, just an inch larger than Grace’s. I’ll have you down by tomorrow morning. A night’s sleep in your corset will work wonders.” It might work wonders but a night’s sleep wouldn’t be one of them I thought to my self. I honestly thought that I would be cut in two by morning. She placed pads in the cups at the top of the corset. “Grace wasn’t too large so these pads should suffice,” she commented. Three or four lacey petticoats were put on me followed by a form fitting black maid’s uniform. It fit me to a tee, although it was a bit snug around the waist. Court shoes with four-inch heels were placed on my feet. “I’ll spend the rest of the afternoon and evening helping you get accustomed to walking in them.” I didn’t see how I would ever be able to walk in such shoes.

I looked in the mirror and was shocked. I had the shape of a girl. Even so I felt that the staff would never pull off their scheme. I still had the face of a boy. As soon as Mr. and Mrs. Smythe saw me they would throw me out. I hadn’t realized just how creative Miss Rose was at putting on makeup. A glance at her face would have been clue enough, she was beautiful and very soon I would be also. Some time later she finished and arranged a light brown wig on my head. A cute little maid’s cap followed. I was allowed to look at my image. I knew I was doomed to being a girl for two years. No one would ever take me for a boy. I had to admit, I looked lovely. As I looked at my shapely figure and my girlish face I questioned my manhood. I made a better-looking girl than I could ever look as a boy. Strange feelings coursed through my being and even stranger thoughts crossed my mind. Was I, in just a few hours time, beginning to feel like a girl? Was I actually beginning to enjoy my predicament? It occurred to me that in spite of my very effective girl appearance I could get out of this situation by merely announcing that I was not a girl. But did I want to? I was getting paid. I would be well fed. My living conditions were far better than the little cottage I lived in and two years would pass quickly and I could become myself again. I was brought back to reality as Miss Rose announced that from this moment on I would be known as Janet. Then reading my mind she said, “If you are discovered, all of the staff will lose their positions. We would not take kindly to that happening. It would go hard on you. Besides, your boy clothes have been burned. You would have to walk many miles as a girl in your high heels to get home and I’m sure your parents wouldn’t be pleased to learn you were sacked.” So then and there Janet was born. As promised I was given walking lessons interspersed with instructions regarding a page’s duties. I was shocked to learn that Mrs. Smythe frequently had Grace lace her corsets. It was no wonder she required a girl page. By bedtime I was walking quite well in my high heels.

 I was undressed, except for my corset and retired to my bed. I had a fitful sleep. Whether it was due to the tight lacing or the unusual dreams inspired by the corset, or both, I wasn’t sure. The general theme of the dreams was that I came to love being a girl and didn’t want to change back. In some I begged for ever tighter corsets and having a waist measurement in the high teens. I dreamed of going to dances in pretty gowns and being whirled around the floor by handsome male escorts. Some even kissed me. The next morning Miss Rose, true to her word, closed the laces on my corset. How could anything be uncomfortable and feel delightful at the same time? My corset did. An unfamiliar swelling between my legs attested to that. After I was dressed I was led to the kitchen, where all the staff ate, and had breakfast. I hated to admit it but it was better by far than at home. The restriction of the corset limited my appetite. When finished, Miss Rose inspected me carefully and led me into the parlour to meet Mr. and Mrs. Smythe. I had butterflies in my stomach. What if something went wrong? What would the staff do to me? When I was introduced I curtsied as instructed and said, “How do you do, I’m at your service.” Since my voice hadn’t changed as yet I sounded like the girl I was supposed to be. I spent the rest of the day performing my duties, which were actually minimal. I met the postman and brought the mail to Mr. Smythe curtsying as I handed it to him. I lit his cigars and brought him his slippers after dinner, which I helped serve. By the end of the day John was becoming a memory and Janet was becoming a reality. I walked like a girl, I talked like a girl and I was beginning to feel like a girl; corsets, heels and all. Then again, I had little or no choice. By the end of the week John had almost ceased to exist. How easily a child’s mind can be molded.

Early Saturday morning I was informed that my employers were going to London for shopping and would be staying over night with friends to attend services at the cathedral on Sunday. I would be allowed to ride with them if I wished to visit my parents. I eagerly accepted the invitation forgetting for the moment that I was now dressed as a girl. I sat next to the coachman; servants could never ride in the carriage. As we drove along I was strangely thrilled by the admiring glances I received from male passersby on the street below. Approaching my cottage I wondered how I could explain my appearance to my family. I rationalized by thinking, “They got me into this, and they would have to accept it.” As soon as I departed from the coach in front of the cottage the coach pulled away. Mum and dad met me at the door. “Bly me, ain’t she the pretty one,” dad exclaimed loudly as he hugged me. “And they got her properly corseted too. If she wasn’t me boy I could take a fancy to her.” Mum gave him a kick and told him to mind his talk. She stood back and looked me over. “Why you’re absolutely lovely. The lads will sure be calling on you in a year or two,” she complimented. “If I wasn’t your mother I would never guess that you were a boy.” She gave me a hug and ran her hands over my corseted body. “My oh my, your father is right, they certainly have you well corseted. What is your waist?” “They have me laced to twenty inches,” I said demurely. “And what should we call you? John is certainly not suitable for the likes of you.” “ I, I’m called Janet,” I replied with a blush. “Well Janet it is then,” Mum and dad agreed.

We went inside. My sister Alice came running in to see her new little sister. She had already been told of my new situation. “She’s beautiful and I’m jealous,” she exclaimed as I removed my coat, her eyes zeroing in on my tiny waist. She placed her hands on my waist feeling my corset. “Now I’m angry. You have such a tiny waist and I can’t afford a decent corset. Well, not really angry, just envious. It’s hard to believe that my little brother can be such a lovely young girl. My friends would give their eye teeth to have a figure like yours.” All this flattery was almost too much for me. I was actually basking in the praises of my maidenly appearance. As a boy I should be hanging my head in shame. Instead I was ecstatic with joy. It wasn’t long before Alice left, returning shortly with an entourage of girl friends, all bent on seeing Alice’s brother. None of them were a bit concerned that I was a boy. They only marveled at how a boy could be transformed into a girl. All they could talk about was how pretty I was and what a wonderful figure I had. It was as if I was one of the girls. I reveled in the praise. I was Janet, one of the girls.

I returned to the manor house with my master and his wife. Even they commented on what a pretty girl I was. The staff had successfully pulled off their hoax. I was their girl page. One morning I was summoned to Mrs. Smythe’s room. She was standing there wearing only her chemise and holding her corset in her hands. “Rose injured her hand this morning and won’t be able to lace my corset for a few days. You look like a strong young lady so I expect you to take over,” she said handing the corset to me. I hoped she wouldn’t notice me blushing as I took it. After all I still had a boy’s emotions and the prospect of lacing an attractive, older woman is a pretty intimate operation. Her corset was similar to mine in construction. Her waist was a few inches larger, but not undesirably so. I soon had her laced tightly. As I prepared to leave she handed me her stockings saying, “you’ve forgotten something. In that era ladies of breeding never wore panties, those were for lower class women and “ladies of the night”. As I fastened her stockings to the suspenders I caught a fleeting glimpse of her intimate area. I had never seen a female before and became aroused at the sight. I hastily finished my task and begged her leave, departing quickly. I was dressed as a girl but that episode reminded me that deep down I was still John. I spent the next delightful week attending to milady’s corseting with great pleasure. I was disappointed when Miss Rose returned to her service.

The weeks turned into months. Except for occasions when I laced her corset I had forgotten that John ever existed. I was Janet. I looked forward to having my corsets laced and feeling the pull of my stockings on my suspenders. I loved having Miss Rose make up my face. I loved the admiring glances of the boys and men in the village. My hair had grown to the extent that a wig was no longer necessary. I was elated when Miss Rose announced that I was going to visit the local corsetiere to be fitted for an eighteen-inch corset at Mrs. Smythe’s request. Now my sister and her friends would really be envious. I was thinking just like a girl. I was mildly disappointed with my new corset however. I wanted it laced to eighteen inches but was advised to decrease my waist gradually as two inches at that stage of my corseting was far too much to attempt overnight, so to speak. A month later my disappointment was over when Miss Rose finally closed my laces. As anticipated my sister was figuratively green with envy when she saw my figure. As a surprise I gave her my old corset. She was elated and couldn’t stop thanking me. At her request I laced her into it. Since she wasn’t used to being tightly laced I stopped at twenty-two inches. Mum could close the corset in a week or so.

Back at the manor house I was fully accepted as a girl. Mr. and Mrs. Smythe never suspected a thing. The staff, all of whom were aware that I had been a boy, regarded me as completely (almost) feminine. I noticed however that the coachman and the butler looked lustfully at me in spite of me being the same gender. Even Mr. Smythe frequently gave me very unfatherly glances. The unknowing stable boy took a fancy to me. At first I resisted his advances. Finally the girl imbued in me gave in and we spent many happy hours hugging and kissing. I was fascinated by the bulge in his crotch as I frequently fondled it. I knew it was wrong for a boy to touch another boy but I could relate to being a girl more easily than to being a male. It must be wonderful to be a real girl. Because of my age, which was common knowledge, we were reluctant to go any further.

When the terms of my papers were completed I didn’t know what to do. My patrons wanted me to stay on. The weak boy in me told me to give up my feminine life. The more dominant girl in me didn’t want to give up my wonderful corsets, stockings, high heels and satin outer garments. As a girl boys sought me after. As a boy I would be just one of the crowd spending my life looking for the girl I had become. My family accepted me as their daughter and sister. Janet finally won. I agreed to stay on at the manor house for another two years. It was an easy life and I could be the girl I wanted to be.

When I finally left their service I was sixteen, a young lady. What did the future hold for me? I had no desire to return to a boy’s life. After being a girl for four years I had lost interest in having a girl for a companion, not that one would want me. Four years of extreme corseting during my formative years has altered my body shape to that of a girls’, even when uncorseted. Very few girls would want a beau with a feminine shape. I am physically a male. I could probably find another male who might want a feminized boy. Perhaps that is my future. That way I could continue wearing my favorite clothes. After a few months of soul searching I returned to the Manor, This time as the number one maid. Miss Rose had just left to get married.

One day, shortly after I turned eighteen there was a surprise visitor to the manor house. Fred was a twenty-year old long lost nephew of Mrs. Smythe. He was instantly attracted to me and I to him. Because of our social positions we had to have a clandestine relationship. I never dreamed that I could fall in love with a young man. Our feelings were so intense that when he discovered my true identity he was not fazed. He loved me and I loved him. He had a long talk with his aunt and uncle, naturally not revealing my true gender. They finally accepted the fact that their nephew wanted to marry their maid. We were married in church by the local vicar who had no knowledge of our secret. I was a beautiful bride. My now tightly corseted sister was my maid of honor. The wedding was followed by a small reception for a few friends and neighbors in deference to my lower social status. We were both virgins. Our wedding night was glorious beyond description. All of my pent up emotions burst free to Fred’s everlasting pleasure. No real woman could have been more loving. Fred couldn’t have been happier. People occasionally ask when we are having children. We tell them we can’t. Only Fred, my family and I know why. By the way, I now use the front entrance.

The End

 Home

Sissy Girl Stories

 Links