Mistress Psyche's Feminization Fantasies


Sissy Girl Stories


Rosie the Sissy – Part Two

By Beverly Taff 

List of characters.

Me Robert
Wendy My twin sister
Angela Our younger half sister by my mother’s second boyfriend

My overworked drippy mother who lets everybody walk all over her

Aunty Janet  My mother’s pushy domineering sister

Our friend from the next farm

Jessica Harriet’s older sister

After Mrs Jones, or Aunty Margaret as we came to call her, took Harriet home, we prepared for bed. We were made to shower together again but this time we checked that Aunty Janet was not in the bathroom. As we got undressed, Wendy giggled and pointed to the strap marks over my shoulders and around my chest.

"You’d better not let anybody see those, they’re a dead give away."

I turned to look in the mirror and frowned. The bra strap marks were very obvious.

Once again we showered together and we giggled as we soaped each other all over.

"Does your pee-pee always get hard?" Whispered Wendy as she soaped busily at my boy toy.

"Yes, just like your titties." I replied, tweaking her nipples.

"Owow!" She squeaked. "Not like that. It hurts. Do it like this!"

She gently took my fingers and slowly guided my fingertips as they grazed gently across her stiffening little brown nubbins.

"Do it like that, softly and slowly; see."

I carefully copied her instructions and she started to sigh then twitch. Then her eyelids grew heavy as a soft low croak started growing deep in her throat. I stopped nervously for a moment but her eyes opened irritably and she croaked.

"Don’t stop. Keep doing it!"

I resumed immediately.

"Sofftleee. Yesssss. Like that! Just there. Yesss. That’s reealyy nice!"

I continued for a good ten minutes then Wendy let out a soft sigh as her knees sagged and her fingers groped eagerly for her girly place. Then her hips started pumping urgently until she let out a long low moan. Finally she slid down in the cubicle and sat at my feet heaving for breath until she eventually slumped.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

"Ooohh yyesss. That was lovely. D’you want to come now?"

I was feeling guilty but my cock was demanding attention. He stood bravely up as Wendy looked up at him from her sitting position.

"Give him here." She ordered.

"What?" I asked.

"Give him here. I want to kiss him."

"That’s rude. Brother’s and sisters shouldn’t be doing this."

"Brother’s and sisters shouldn’t be sleeping together or sharing each other’s panties." Argued my twin. "Anyway. Who’s to know? Come on, let me kiss it." I once saw mum doing it to Angela’s dad."

I had no other arguments so I shuffled forward and bent my knees slightly so that Wendy’s lips were level with my pee-pee. Instead of kissing it though, she took it in her mouth and started sucking it like an ice-lolly.

"Ooohh. That’s great." I groaned as I automatically started pumping my hips.

"Mmmmpphh. Don’t do that, you’re choking me. Stay still."

Her request was impossible and anyway I had already started shooting. As the first pearly droplet shot out, Wendy immediately grabbed my pee-pee with her mouth again and resumed sucking. I let out a low squeak as I desperately tried to stay quiet. However the banging and thumping in the shower would have awakened the dead. Just as the last jism squirted into Wendy’s mouth, Aunty Janet flung the door open. She let out a gasp of disgust then grinned evilly.

"Well, well, you two dirty little ferrets. It seems you can’t stop it. I’ll definitely have to take steps to prevent this. Now finish showering, the pair of you."

Feverishly we soaped each other down then shampooed our hair before stepping out to find Aunty Janet waiting for us. Strangely, she said and did nothing, simply handing us our bath towels then allowing us to dry each other off. We said nothing as fear and dread pumped through our nervous bodies.

"You had better go to bed, " said Aunty Janet, "I’ll bath Angela."

Relieved to have apparently got off so lightly, we scampered to the bedroom and found two ‘baby-doll’ nighties laid out on Wendy’s double bed.

"Am I going to have to wear one of those?" I whispered to Wendy.

"It looks like it. I don’t see any pyjamas."

This time I wasn’t going to be caught out, so I chose the pink one and examined the matching panties. To my chagrin, both sets were identical and the panties had masses of stiff frills. I exchanged a resigned look with Wendy as we both stepped into the panties then shimmied the nighties over our shoulders.

"Ooow! The frills tickle." I squeaked as I felt the lacy edges tickle the insides of my thighs.

"Mmm. You’re right," giggled Wendy, "it feels nice though, doesn’t it."

I squeezed my thighs together and savoured the delightful titillation as my pee-pee started to harden. Fortunately, Wendy couldn’t see it under all the masses of frills on my panties and the additional deep frilly hem of my nightie further hid any further growth. We clambered into bed then gave each other a squeeze before turning our backs on each other as though to show Aunty Janet that we were not going to sleep like a pair of lovers. We lay whispering quietly until Aunty Janet returned with Angela and I had to pull the duvet over my shoulders to hide my baby-doll nightie from Angela’s eyes.

"Are you two OK?" Asked Aunty Janet.

"Yes," we chorused as we both thought ‘as if you care!’"

Angela saw us sleeping together and demanded that she be allowed to share, but even Aunty Janet would not allow that.

"Not until or unless you learn to stop wetting the bed!" She admonished angrily.


Tears came to Angela’s eyes but we were grateful for this small bit of license from our Aunty. If Angela wet our bed, there would be triple the washing to do. Angela’s mattress also had a rubber sheet to save it getting stained. Angela reluctantly agreed to sleep in her own bed for even she had learned not to annoy Aunty Janet. Angela quickly fell asleep then Aunty Janet returned to check us out.

"Do you like your new nighties?"

I wanted to ask for pyjamas but I knew Aunty Janet might get annoyed again so I remained quiet. Wendy nodded to say yes for both of us and Aunty Janet briefly checked to see that we were wearing them.

"D’you prefer the pink ones darling?" She smiled at me.

I said nothing and simply lay submissively still as Aunty Janet replaced the duvet and smiled that evil little smile that we had come to dread.

"Now. I don’t mind you whispering, but don’t wake Angela!"

We had absolutely no intention of waking our horrible little stepsister but it seemed that Aunty Janet had no qualms about us talking. We thus rolled over and lay facing each other on either sides of the bed as Aunty Janet left. It wasn’t long before I felt Wendy’s hand reach out tentatively across the space between us.

"What d’you want?" I whispered deathly silent.

For an answer, I felt her body slide towards mine and then her hand was cautiously sliding over my silky nightie. She hesitated for a moment then cautiously snuggled up to me and brought her soft rounded leg across my hips. She immediately felt my stiff little pee-pee then giggled as her hand groped delicately under my nightie.

"Stoppit." I whispered nervously.

"It’s hard again?" She replied.

"Of course it’s hard."

It was impossible for me to keep it soft within the soft silky embrace of my panties whilst the frills tickling my thighs and butt simply added to my excitement.

"Why is it hard?" Giggled Wendy.

I knew she was just winding me up. She knew exactly why I was hard. I refused to be drawn but she persisted.

"You like those silky, frilly panties, don’t you?"

I wanted to say no, but it would have been a total lie. My little pee-pee was becoming hopelessly addicted to the beautiful cocoon of silky nylon and frilly lace. Wendy gently fingered my hard little boy- toy then she giggled again as her fingers wrapped around it.

"She likes that, doesn’t she?"

"It’s not a she, it’s a he," I protested.

"Well why does she like frilly panties?"

I had no answer to this. The very idea that my pee-pee seemed to love the silky embrace of flimsy girly panties left me feeling hopelessly confused yet inexplicably enthralled. A little sob escaped my lips but Wendy gently licked the salty tears from my eyes.

"Don’t worry. I like you just the way you are. Anyway, silky panties are nice. I’ve always preferred them to my old cotton ones, so why shouldn’t you?"

The relief flooded through my body like a wave and I quickly hugged her tight to me. Our nighties slithered and slipped between us and this only emphasised the wonderful sensations. Then Wendy took my fingers and gently guided them to her nipples again.

"Do like you did before, but through the nylon. I like the silky feel on my bits as well."

I did as she asked and she gasped as she humped tight against my thigh. Soon I felt her panties become warm against my leg and she quickly adjusted herself as she tugged her panties down past her ankles.

"Take yours off as well." She demanded.

"No, doing it down there is wrong. We’re brother and sister."

"It doesn’t matter. We’re sleeping together now and I can’t get pregnant. I don’t have my periods properly yet."

"It’s still wrong," I protested weakly as Wendy’s fingers busied themselves with the waistband of my panties.

As her knowing fingers gently fiddled with my pee-pee, I couldn’t prevent myself from humping into my panties and that action automatically raised my butt thus allowing Wendy to release my panties.

Before I knew it. We were naked from the waists down and our panties were left on the bedroom floor. Wendy was eagerly spreading her knees over my trembling thighs.

"That’s better. Now let me do it; you just lie there until I tell you. Then you won’t hurt me."

"We can’t do this!" I protested feebly as my rock hard pee-pee totally belied my failing conscience.

With guilt rapidly losing the moral contest, I lay still as Wendy’s soft rounded tummy pressed against mine and she slowly slid herself down towards my stiff pee-pee. She carefully adjusted herself until my pee-pee was right on the target, then she gently guided it into her eager girly place.

"There. Does that feel nice?"

I groaned as her delightful slippery tube embraced my pee-pee then slid down my shaft until Wendy and I were lodged firmly together.

"There," she sighed, "that’s what boys and girls are designed for."

I knew perfectly well about the mechanics of sex for I had received the same sex lessons as Wendy, but it was still wrong for brother and sister. Despite my guilt though, I couldn’t resist humping eagerly against Wendy.

"Whoa!" She objected. "Do it slowly, like you did to my tits."

I struggled to do it slowly but the strain was enormous. My little pee-pee desperately needed release. Each time I felt myself wanting to accelerate the humping, Wendy would clamp her thighs and prevent me moving.

Eventually however, I felt Wendy’s mood increasing as her breaths became more laboured and her girly bud started to frot against the root of my pee-pee. She then urged me to pump and I needed no encouragement. Within seconds I was groaning with pleasure and Wendy matched my every delight. She gave a soft low squeal as her body tensed and her thighs clamped around me like a vice. After a few frenzied pumps, I was finally spent but Wendy remained clamped around me as her heart beat a tattoo and she urgently nuzzled my neck. Our nipples squeezed tight together and I could feel her stiff swollen nubbins pressing against my little pink pimples. It was obvious that the sensations affected Wendy’s tits as well as her girly bits. As Wendy continued squirming and gasping, I lay back and wondered what is what like to be a girl and why her fun seemed to last longer than mine.

"Are you still ‘going’?" I asked.

"Mmmm. Yesss!" She murmured.

I must confess, that even though I had just enjoyed one of the highest moments of my short life, I felt a twinge of jealous curiosity as to why my twin sister was still enjoying whatever it was that she felt. Finally, I felt her heart slowing down and she let out a soft low sigh.

"Eeeeh, that was lovely," she whimpered as she slumped upon me and her eyelids became heavy.

I lay still as my pee-pee became soft and she protested.

"Keep her hard. It’s nice."

"I can’t. Once she’s done, I can’t stop her."

I didn’t realise that I had just referred to the most potent symbol of my manhood as a ‘she’. Wendy sniggered and pressed herself hard against the last dying harness of my pee-pee.

"I still like her though. Even when she’s going to sleep."

As she whispered, she groped under the pillow and produced some tissues that she had obviously prepared. Then she pressed them to her girly bits and whispered to me.

"I might need more than these. There’s some on our dressing table."

I didn’t notice how she had referred to the dressing table with all its makeup and the big mirror as ‘our’ dressing table. Carefully, I slid out of bed and recovered my panties from the floor as I located the tissue box in the soft moonlight. Then I returned with the whole box and we busied ourselves before replacing our panties. In the moonlit semidarkness

, we never noticed that we had replaced the wrong panties. I was now wearing Wendy’s lemon panties while she was wearing my pink ones. As sleep began to overtake us, we snuggled up in each other’s embrace.

Once again Janet found us cuddling up in the morning as she crept in to awaken us. Angela was in a deep sleep as she gently tugged at our duvet.

"Time to get up my sleeping beauties," she whispered. "Go and have your shower."

Sleepily we both rose and slid out of bed and immediately Janet noticed our different panties.

"Hello, hello, you little sluts. What’s the meaning of this?"

She lifted the thick frilly hems of our nighties and exposed our unmatched panties.

"Well? Can you explain? They were matching last night when I checked you."

We both felt a cold serpent of fear coil down our spines as Aunty Janet’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"We are definitely going to have to do something about this. You’re like a pair of animals."

Ruefully, we entered the shower as Aunty Janet phoned Mrs Jones, Harriet’s mum.

When we emerged, our clothes were set out in my old bedroom on my old bed.

"So as not to wake Angela," intoned Aunty Janet as I inspected my clothes.

They were virtually identical to Wendy’s, except that my outfit included a wig in the same style as Wendy’s crowning glory.

"Do I have to wear these?" I pleaded.

"Of course. Everybody thinks Wendy’s cousin is staying over for the summer and that Robert has gone to see his dad."

Aunty Janet seemed to have an answer for everything and with a sinking heart I stepped into the silky pink panties. Strangely, I was a little disappointed that they were not the very frilly ones that Aunty Janet had bought the day before. They must have been an ‘everyday’ pair for they simply slid over my butt with the minimum of sensation. I noted however, that they were so sheer that they were almost transparent. After Wendy had helped me with my bra, I finally slipped the frilly multi-layered petticoat over my head then my sister helped to zip up the back fastener. The multiple frills made the petticoat stick out further than a ballerina’s tutu. Wendy followed suit then she protested vigorously when she examined the frocks.

"These are horrible. They make us look like little girls."

"Just put them on and let’s have no nonsense," ordered Aunty Janet, "you’ve been slumming for the whole first week of these holidays. It’s time you learned to look like ladies and take more care of your appearances."

"But these are baby frocks. They’re too short!" Protested Wendy again as she held the frock to her shoulders. "Look at this, if we bend over, you’ll be able to see our flimsy panties. And that means they’ll see our private bits."

"Listen to me young lady. They fit you perfectly so stop whingeing. If you complain anymore, I’ll send you across the field naked."

Wendy fell into a sullen silence and reluctantly slid the dress over her shoulders. Then she threaded her arms into the short sleeves. I followed suite and then we buttoned each other up the back. My twin sister was absolutely right. The frocks were terribly short and immediately we bent over, the frothy petticoats, pushed the hems up and exposed our flimsy panties. However, Aunty Janet addressed our fears of being ‘exposed’.

For a final touch, Aunty Janet produced two packets of white ‘little girl tights’ Wendy looked horror-struck when she saw them.

"But these are, -!"

"I know perfectly well what they are," countered Janet, " but they will fit you properly and they will cover up your bits, so slip them on."

In a sullen silence, I balled up the tights and carefully slid my feet into the toe reinforcements then carefully worked the tights up my legs. Aunty Janet watched me knowingly.

"Where did you ever learn to put tights properly?" She demanded.

I felt a lump of fear form in my throat. In trying to please her I had given away one of my oldest secrets. I sometimes stole a pair of my mother’s tights and slept in them. After one or two accidents, I had soon learned how to put them on without laddering them. Now my secret was blown. I said nothing so Aunty Janet could not confirm my secret. She could draw her own conclusions, but I felt a sinking feeling engulf me. Aunty Janet was not slow.

As my twin and I stood looking at each other in tights, Aunty Janet next produced two matching pairs of frilly panties that properly matched our bras.

"Here. These go on over the tights. They will look much prettier than the crotch of your tights when you bend."

"Huh, I had been half expecting this," grumbled Wendy as we each stepped into our excessively frilly panties.

As I struggled to pull them up my legs, Wendy offered some advice.

"These aren’t the ones we brought yesterday. These are panty-girdles. The outer layer makes them look like panties. You’ll have to wriggle and squirm to pull them on.

Wendy’s words proved right. After I had finally drawn them all the way up to the high waistband, my little pee-pee was nowhere to be seen. Aunty Janet smiled at the affect as she adjusted my petticoats and tidied up the smooth appearance in my crotch.

"There. That looks much better, and no give-away bulges. They are designed to prevent your tights from sagging. That’s why Wendy is wearing them as well."

Wendy and I held up the hems of our frocks and petticoats as we studied the smooth frilly flatness of our tummies. Aunty Janet was right. Apart from mine being pink and Wendy’s being white, our lower parts looked identical.

Finally Aunty Janet produced two pairs of ‘Mary Jane’ shoes in white.

"We can’t play in these white shoes Aunty Janet," protested Wendy, "they’ll get filthy on the farm."

"As would those lovely tights and petticoats. You’ll have to play in the house and stay out of the farmyard. You’ll learn to behave like ladies."

Finally, she blow-dried Wendy’s hair in a little girl style then fastened my wig on with special clips. When we stood facing the large mirror in Aunty Janet’s bedroom, we looked like two slightly oversized six-year-old twins. Wendy’s eyes blazed with resentment and mine glistened with moisture as I struggled to avoid bursting into tears.

"Now go down and eat your breakfast and use the pinafores I have laid out. We don’t want to spoil your pretty frocks."

We two clip-clopped down the stairs as our mary-jane shoes drew attention to the one-inch heels. We had always worn trainers, so it was strange to hear our footsteps on the stairs.

When we finished breakfast, Aunty Janet, let us go to Harriet’s farm before Angela came down. She suggested that we use the lane to avoid muddying our new white shoes. I was terrified that Angela would discover me like this, so I was agreeable to anything that avoided her seeing me. As the morning sun promised another long hot summers day, Wendy and I set off down the lane to the fork and then up to Harriet’s farm.

"What d’you think she’ll say about these frocks?" I asked Wendy as we picked our way along the tarmac strips where the tyres ran.

Wendy just shrugged and frowned but I was worried.

"She might not play with us if we can’t go off into the fields or the woods."

We both knew that Harriet could be a bit of a tomboy and I could tell that Wendy was worried. As the heels of our mary janes clipped sharply along the tarmac, we fell silent. At the fork in the lane we turned up the branch for Harriet’s farm. There was more mud where the tractors had been busy but we were able to pick our way carefully and arrived at the farm with our shoes still fairly clean.

Approaching from the lane meant we would have to enter by the front door to avoid the mud in the farmyard. The idea of traipsing up the main garden path and having to knock on the front door gave our arrival a distinctly more formal air. Despite this we were not prepared for the welcome that awaited us.

Harriet answered the door wearing exactly the same outfits as Wendy and I. We gasped as Harriet shrugged her shoulders.

"Why?" Gasped Wendy as I stood there gaping stupidly

"I don’t know. Mum said I had to start learning to be a lady if I was going to high school next term. You’d better come in. Are your shoes clean?"

There were a few spots of mud that we could not avoid from the muddy lane, so we had to take our shoes off and clean them with a damp cloth that Aunty Margaret provided. I could not help noticing how our petticoats popped up to expose our tights and ludicrously frilly panty-girdles as we bent down to unbuckle our shoes. There was no hiding our new girlyfied state.

Aunty Margaret smiled sweetly.

"Well you three young ladies will have to play indoors wont you. We can’t have you getting these lovely dresses soiled in the barns. I’ll tell you what. After we’ve prepared the men’s lunches to eat in the fields, we’ll prepare a picnic lunch for ourselves in the orchard."

We didn’t think much of this idea, but at least we’d get to enjoy an afternoon outside, even if it was just in the orchard. Aunty Margaret then produced some very frilly aprons fresh from their packaging and told us to put them on.

"We don’t want cooking stains on those pretty frocks, do we?"

As we tied each other’s frilly bows and prettied them up ready for Aunty Margaret’s inspection, we exchanged glances and Harriet whispered in my ear.

"This is awful. What are we going to do? By the way, I love your pink dress. Why did you get the pink one and Wendy the white one?"

"Aunty Janet chose them," I replied, "I like yours. It’s a lovely shade of pale blue. I wish I had the blue one."

"Well you could hardly say ‘blue for a boy, could you?" Giggled Wendy.

I pressed my fingers under her ribs and tickled her as a punishment. She squeaked and we all giggled at her remark but my twin was right. I could never claim to be a boy whilst wearing such a pretty satiny frilly frock whatever its colour.

"But look!" Observed Harriet as she fingered the delicate satiny material, "they’re all the same design. Your Aunty Janet and my mum must have been colluding." Observed Harriet.

As I finished Wendy’s big frilly bow, I felt her tense as she realised the import of Harriet’s remark.

"They must have been!" She gasped. "I mean when did they have a chance to buy them? Aunty Janet’s only been here for three days.

"I remember seeing these in Aunty Janet’s store when we fitted out Robbie." Observed Harriet as she finally finished my bow. "Don’t you remember, they were laid out neatly on the counter by the checkout."

We all fell silent as we realised that Aunty Janet must have organised for Aunty Margaret to collect them while we were busy in the changing rooms getting me fitted for my new bras.

A worried cloud settled upon us as we all wondered what else Aunty Janet and Aunty Margaret had planned.


Once satisfied that we’d pass Aunty Margaret’s inspection we presented ourselves in the kitchen. Aunty Margaret’s smile beamed with satisfaction then she instructed us in our tasks. By eleven o’clock we had finished most of the cooking, and it now only required setting out.

"Time for elevenses, I think." Observed Aunty Margaret. We’ll take some cordial and a biscuit each in the orchard."

Grateful to have a spell outside, we took the trays and gathered around the large orchard table. There we had an idyllic half hour chattering and laughing about our activities in the kitchen and the silly mistakes we’d made as Aunty Janet instructed us in cooking. Then we returned to prepare the food for delivery to the fields. We loaded the food into a big wicker basket then clambered into the Landover to take it to the fields. We all giggled as we reached up to clamber up into the high-sided vehicle because we could not hide our pretty tights and frilly panties.

We three had to sit in the back seat and our stiff petticoats made our frocks rise up around us. We looked like a floral border with three little pixie heads sticking up from the centres of the flowers. Aunty Margaret glanced in the mirror and smiled.

"I wish I’d brought the camera, but there’s plenty of time for that later."

Needless to say, the men were pleased to see the food and I felt several unwelcome stares fixating on our frilly butts. As we laid out the food we had to bend over, I could feel myself becoming uncomfortable about the stares. Strangely, Wendy and Harriet seemed to enjoy the attention. Fortunately we did not linger. Aunty Margaret told her husband to place all the leftovers back in the hamper basket and she’d collect it later. We gave the men one last flash of our frilly bottoms as we clambered into the land rover and returned to the farm. When we got back there was a familiar car by the garden gate. Wendy and I exchanged disappointed glances as we realised Aunty Janet had arrived, for that meant the horrible little Angela was here.

Harriet quickly caught our mood and three glum faces descended from the land rover. Aunty Janet was waiting on the stone porch seat with Angela sat on her knee. Aunty Janet smiled at Aunty Margaret and Angela scampered down the path to greet us. With a sickening realisation we recognised Angela’s dress as a smaller, pale lemon version of ours. She was kitted out identically to us. As she recognised the same outfits, her face beamed eagerly.

"Oooh. Aren’t these dresses nice!" She squealed happily.

Then her eyes fell upon me.

"Who are you?" She asked, eyeing up my pretty pink version of her frock.

I stayed silent as Aunty Janet ‘introduced’ me as Rose Roberta and that I was Wendy’s half sister.

"I shall call you Rosie." Declared Angela.

"Her name’s Robbie," countered Harriet who leapt to my defence.

For a moment Angela was about to argue, but Harriet’s declared stance was enough to stop her. Angela knew enough not to push her luck. She knew she was a guest, and although invited, she was shrewd enough to know not to antagonise Harriet in her own house. In Angela’s eyes, the adults didn’t count, except when she needed allies. For now, she would have to call me Robbie. It was the only way she could remain acceptable to us. As to my being a half sister to Wendy, Angela understood all about being a half sister. She knew we had the same mother but different fathers to her so the idea was not new.

In her egotistical existence it was all her so it mattered very little. Janet had been very shrewd to choose my new supposed relationship with my real twin sister. After accepting that Wendy now had another half sister who shared the same father Angela next asked where her half brother Robert had gone.

"He’s been sent to live with his father." Replied Aunty Janet. "He was getting too naughty and he was upsetting you too much, by teasing you."

This pleased Angela who resented her half brother Robert just as much as he resented her.

"Good. He won’t be able to tease me again." Smirked Angela victoriously.

I wanted to hit Angela, but Wendy gently restrained me. What worried me most was that I was now stuck in the role of Robbie or Rosie, as Angela preferred to call me, for as long as I lived with Angela under the same roof. Ruefully, I helped carry out the picnic from the kitchen to the orchard and we ate like six genteel ladies around the orchard picnic table. Then Aunty Janet organised a few party games suitable for all ages so as to include Angela. By late afternoon, Angela was tired and we had to return to the cottage so that she could have her afternoon nap. Harriet came with us so that we could play with makeup to finish off the day. By the time our mother came home late from her second job, we were going to bed. I wanted to complain about being made to live like a girl, but Aunty Janet had already prepared the ground.

"It’ll temper his ways and gentle his manners. You saw what happened with Harriet’s older brother after being allowed to run wild around the farm."

My mother, always looking for the easy way out, agreed to the imposition. Besides that, when she got home exhausted after doing two jobs, she was in no mood to start arguing. I was now stuck as Robbie or Rosie.

It soon became Rosie, because Angela insisted on calling me Rosie when we met people despite Harriet’s warnings.

It didn’t take long for Aunty Janet to fix things permanently. I soon discovered that all my boy’s clothes were gone and I had no choice but to live as Rosie.

The following Monday, Aunty Janet took me to see her own doctor and registered me as Rosie. They talked about me and the doctor asked some strange questions. I wanted to deny that I preferred being a girl, but the opportunity, somehow never arose and for some strange reason I didn’t push it too hard. Finally, the doctor smiled and prescribed a course of special ‘vitamins’, and then we left.

"What did the doctor say?" Pumped Wendy when I came home.

"Not a lot." I replied. "I need some vitamins because there’s something not right with my blood or something."

"Well I’ve got some good news."


"Harriet’s got a new pony. We can go around and see it."

My eyes widened excitedly. I had always wanted a pony and our cottage had a paddock big enough for two or three. Our paddock backed on to one of Harriet’s father’s fields so we could easily have shared in the caring duties. It was always the shortage of money that had stopped us having ponies. Nevertheless, Harriet had always let us ride her other pony, but we had all outgrown Pumpkin. She now lived in Semi retirement unless some of Harriet’s smaller cousins came to visit. Needless to add, we had never let Angela ride Pumpkin. We had let her ride the docile little mare just once and she had pulled the bridle so viciously that she damaged Pumpkin’s soft obedient lip. After that Pumpkin would not allow Angela near. This suited us fine.

"What’s the new one called?" I asked Wendy.

"Toby. Let’s go and ask Aunty Janet."

"Very well," agreed Aunty Janet, "but you had better change out of your best pretty frocks and change into more suitable clothes to be around the horses. Oh, and you’d better take your tablets first, Rosie."

I wanted to protest at the ‘Rosie’ but what was the use. ‘Robbie or Rosie, I was still stuck now living as a girl.

By now, I had grown so used to frocks that it felt strange to be putting on a pair of jeans again. Nevertheless, they were still stretch girl’s jeans, with a side fastening zip and no fly. Wendy wore an identical pair, in fact, all our clothes were interchangeable now. It took us both but a moment to change and we raced eagerly across the fields in our old accustomed manner. We found Harriet dressed in a jersey and old jodhpurs as she groomed and tended her new charge.

"What’s he like?" We chorused"

"Great! He goes like the wind. My dad says he’s going to put him to stud, but he’s OK to ride. Look he behaves like a perfect gentleman."

"Aren’t stallions dangerous?" I asked cautiously.

"Not Toby. Look at the intelligence in his eye. He’s registered with the studbook and he’s got a proper pedigree. He’s got a longer name than mine, so the last owners called him Toby for short. He answer’s to his name and comes when you call him so he remains Toby. I like the name anyway.

"Can we ride him now?"

"Not now, he needs a rest. We’ll ride him after tea. I’ve just ridden him to the top of the Ridgeway and back so he needs a break. He behaved perfectly, even when I dismounted in the stone pound at the top, he didn’t run away. He came to me immediately when I called him."

Harriet always cared for her animals so after finishing Toby, we settled for a game in the barn until teatime. Then Aunty Margaret called us in for some scones and it really felt like old times. Nevertheless, I still looked and dressed like a girl. We played in the bales until teatime then got Toby ready to ride again. This time we took him out bareback to save time. We were all competent riders after years of riding Pumpkin since we were little children. In Harriet’s paddock there were some jumps were we often practiced. As each one of us took turns, I noticed both girls looking red after dismounting. I was last so I asked Wendy what was wrong.

"You’ll see when you ride him without the saddle, it’s fantastic. Go on, take him around the paddock a couple of times then put him to some jumps. You’ll see what I mean."

I mounted Toby and set off at a trot that quickly became a gallop. It was then I realised what the girls meant. Toby was a powerful stallion and the muscles rippled with power as her hurtled around the paddock. Then when he took to the first jump I felt the shock like kick of sheer power from his hindquarters. My thighs twitched with pleasure as I felt the muscles, rippling between my legs. Without a saddle to insulate my thighs and pee-pee from direct affiliation with Toby’s terrific muscles, the sensation was truly erotic. The next thing I realised was that my pee-pee was getting hard.

‘No wonder Harriet and Wendy had been so ‘red faced’ and breathless after riding him.’ To have so much power in close and intimate contact between a girl’s legs was tantamount to having sex.

Thus we spent nearly an hour alternately, riding Toby then secretively attending to our induced needs. Finally, Toby made it clear he had had enough. He threw Wendy with an unexpected buck and we all got the message.

"He knows his own mind." Declared a bruised Wendy as she rubbed her butt and shoulder.

"We’d better rub him down and introduce him to Pumpkin." Declared Harriet.

"Are you still keeping that old fleabag?" I grinned teasingly.

"Yes!" Objected Harriet loudly. "She’s not a fleabag. She’s sweet with my little cousins and there’s still plenty of riding in her. Besides, she’ll be company for Toby."

We felt Harriet was lucky. She had two ponies and her own farm to run them.

"We can put Pumpkin in our paddock if she doesn’t like Toby." Offered Wendy.

Harriet nodded her thanks and accepted the offer. However, when the two ponies met, it was friendship at first sight.

‘It would be with ‘boy and girl’ wouldn’t it.’

Then Toby was put in his own loosebox for the night, next door to Pumpkin.

For the first time in a week, Wendy and I returned home contented to meet our mother. She smiled wearily and stroked our hair before kissing us.

"I like you like that Robbie," she observed wearily as she brushed some stray hands out of her face. "That hair suites you."

"Mum, -" I was about to protest but seeing my mother’s weary grey face persuaded me not to. She looked ill with the effort of two jobs.

Wendy also looked concerned.

"You look ill mum."


"It’ll be alright after the holidays. Janet will have started with her new promotion and the bigger salary. Money won’t be so tight. I’ll be able to give up the night job in the hotel laundry. It’s the first of August today, and you’ll be starting in the high school in early September. Just another month or so, and we’ll be out of this fix. Thank God for Janet’s money is all I can say."

Wendy spoke again, softly.

"Mum, d’you really prefer Robbie as a girl?"

"If it keeps him out of trouble. Yes. I’m worried sick after that Business with Margaret’s son and he was such a nice little boy."

"Was it that serious?" I asked.

"Yes. He raped the girl then nearly killed her. It just doesn’t make sense. They say they were both high on drugs but that’s still no excuse for what he did. I don’t know what gets into boys these days. They were never like that when Janet and I were young. They respected a girl, and no meant no. Your Aunty Margaret will never get over it. She counts her own son as a total failure, and as to who gets the farm well, who knows-"

As mum spoke she noticed the bruise on Wendy’s shoulder. Her eyes darkened worrisomely as she gently peeled the chemise and bra strap off Wendy’s shoulder.

"Who did that to you? I hope it wasn’t Robbie."

"No." Laughed Wendy reassuringly. Harriet’s new pony threw me. Fortunately, he wasn’t going fast. I’ve got an even better bruise on my bum. D’you want to see it?"

Mum’s soft features relaxed and she smiled for the first time in a long time.

"No. I’m just glad it was an accident. I’m sorry for doubting you Robbie. It just, - "

She fell silent and shrugged as we heard Aunty Janet’s car arriving home with Angela.

"Come on, your auntie’s bought a take away. She can afford it now, with her promotion."

Eagerly we helped spread it on the kitchen table and tucked in before preparing for bed. Once in bed, Aunty Janet brought our vitamin pills and made sure we each took our correct doses. As she switched off the lights, Wendy and I immediately snuggled up. Soon I felt my pee-pee misbehaving and Wendy giggled as her fingers found their familiar little friend. After our now usual bout of playfulness I felt contentment, for the first time. I was grateful that Aunty Janet seemed to have mellowed tremendously.

Had I but known, I would have realised why Aunty Janet no longer seemed upset by our closeness. The ‘vitamin pills’ were a little bit more than just vitamins.

It was after about two weeks, that I first noticed.

We were testing out new outfits in our room one afternoon and Wendy was helping me with a new bra when her fingers brushed against my nipples.

"Ah! That’s nice!" I twitched sensuously.

"What? What’s nice?"

"That. What you just did to my titties."

"I didn’t do anything."

"Yes you did. You brushed them with your fingers."

"What. Like that you mean?"

"Aaahh!" I squirmed again and gasped.

"Yes. Exactly like that."

Wendy looked closely at my nipples and smiled.

"They, -, they’re growing. They’re bigger than they were."

"What d’you mean?" I asked, puzzled.

"Just look in the mirror, then feel them."

I turned to face the mirror and frowned. There did seem to be some sort of growth but I couldn’t be certain.

"D’you think so?" I asked Wendy.

"Definitely. Girls know about these things, they’re always looking for signs of growth. Your tits are growing, or at least your nipples are. They’ve grown darker too, like mine see."

She lowered her bra cup to expose the exquisite little buds that now perched atop her ripe little cones. I studied them appreciatively as I noticed the resemblance between the rings around our nipples.

"See. There." Observed Wendy. "Those are called the areola and they grow darker as girls tits grow. Now see how yours have grown like mine. You’re growing titties Robbie."

I felt a nervous thrill pulse through my body for I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or upset. The idea of having sensitive titties like Wendy seemed very exciting because they certainly gave her lots of fun. I gently traced the backs of my thumbnails over my new titties and twitched with pleasure.

"D’you like it?" Asked Wendy.

"Mmmm! Yes. Is this what you feel when I do it to your nipples?"

"Probably. Come here. Take off your bra."

We were both still the same height and Wendy gently pressed close to me to cause her bare nipples to rub against mine.

"Eeeough. Hey! That’s nice," I squealed.

"I know," agreed Wendy as her little mounds of growing flesh wobbled under her stiff nipples causing them to jiggle against mine.

I let out another gasp and pressed against her whilst savouring the delightful new sensations. Then we both gasped appreciatively as we experimented experiment with our newly grown starter buttons. It was not long before we both felt strange ripples of pleasure centering in our other parts. My pee-pee immediately grew hard and Wendy’s girly thing grew wet. Without a moment’s hesitation we scrambled onto the bed and did what now came naturally. This time though, our mutually sensitive nipples added to the fun. We were now precisely matched for each other as our private bits met in perfect synchrony and our nipples nubbed together exactly.

After sharing our delightful mutual pleasures, we compared notes and it seemed things were working out beautifully. My orgasm was taking longer to come and lasting longer when it got there. This matched Wendy’s pleasures and we hugged each other tightly as we settled briefly in each other’s arms. Then, to avoid discovery, we reluctantly slid out of bed and dressed in our pretty frocks before returning down stairs. Fortunately, Aunty Janet was in town with Angela and Mum was out working. We had been killing time waiting for Harriet to return home after taking both ponies to the farriers. The smithy was a dirty dangerous place and Aunty Janet had forbidden us to go there because we would get our frilly frocks and petticoats filthy.

We met Harriet as the horse trailer and Landrover turned into the lane. Harriet also sported a tight new pair of hacking trousers that showed off her every curve and she was starting to develop some nice curves. We helped unload the ponies then dragged Harriet up to her bedroom to tell her the news.

"So what’s this big secret?" Demanded Harriet.

"Robbie’s growing titties. He’s sort of changing into a kind of girl." Squeaked Wendy her voice tight with excitement.

Harriet’s eyes widened with excitement and she demanded to see. We had long since passed the self-consciousness of pubescent girls. Wendy unbuttoned my frock, slipped the bodice of my petticoat down to my waist then lowered my bra cups without a moment’s hesitation. Harriet’s eyes widened further as she confirmed the growing aureole around my stiffening nipples. She then exposed her own titties and we compared notes. We were virtually at identical stages. Harriet could not have been more pleased nor indeed, more curious.

"Do they send little tingles down to your tickly bud?"

"She doesn’t have a tickly bud," giggled Wendy, "Robbie’s still got a pee-pee."

"What! I thought you said she was turning into a girl." Countered Harriet.

"She’s not changing down there, just up here, around her titties."

"Can I see?" Pleaded Harriet.

Wendy and I exchanged glances. Used as we were to our own licentious behaviour, we could see no harm in letting Harriet make further notes. Eagerly I tugged down my frilly panties, then my tights and finally my under panties. As I lay on the bed, Harriet studied my arrangements.

"It’s different from Laddie the sheepdog and Toby. You don’t have a sheath."

Wendy’s eyes widened with surprise. It was obvious that Harriet had never seen a boy’s pee-pee before. Then we realised it made sense. There was a big age gap between Harriet and her older brother. Harriet was eleven whilst her older brother was over twenty so it was obvious she had never seen her brother or her father naked. What little practical sex education that Harriet got, stemmed from watching the animals. Then I remembered that Harriet had got flue during our junior school sex lessons.

"How does it work?" Asked Harriet. "Does it come out of its sheath like a dog’s or a stallion’s?"

Before I could reply, Wendy answered for me.

"No. It just grows bigger and stiffer. If you play with her new titties you’ll see it happen. Go on; try it."

Harriet’s eyes widened as she looked searchingly into my eyes.

"Can I?"

"OK," I replied, "but be gentle. Just stroke them through the fabric of my slip."

"Ah ha," giggled Harriet. "Yours are like mine then. It’s much nicer if you do it through silky fabric."

"I think it is for all of us," observed Wendy with the superior smile of a more developed girl.

So saying she helped remove my bra altogether then eased the shoulder straps of my petticoat back into place. Now my nipples were poking eagerly against the soft silky fabric of my slip. Harriet smiled eagerly as I sat on the bed and Wendy attacked my frilly panties. Soon I was sat on the bed with my panties and tights around my ankles, my frilly petticoat pulled up around my waist and the bodice of my frock pulled down to expose my slip. Thus exposed, Harriet was able to gently stroke my titties through the silky slip whilst watching the effects on my pee-pee. Immediately my nipples stiffened and Harriet grinned as she fingered the hardening little buds through the fabric. I found myself reacting just like Wendy as the sensations sent electric jolts straight to my pee-pee. Within seconds that same pee-pee was growing and Harriet let out a squeak of delight.

"How big does it get?" She whispered eagerly.

"Just keep going," advised Wendy as she went over to Harriet’s dressing table and secretly gathered a bundle of tissues.

Soon, I was pumping eagerly against empty air and gasping as Harriet continued gently stroking my nipples through the slip whilst studying my strange reactions.

"What’s she doing now? Why is she thrusting her hips like that?" asked Harriet as Wendy returned with the tissues.

"This," giggled Wendy as she stood poised with tissues in hand and expertly caught the first spurt of my seed as it squirted over a yard from my pee-pee.

The next spurt of pearly droplets squirted even further and escaped Wendy’s tissue as they jetted from my pee-pee to splash against the back of the bedroom door. Harriet gasped as Wendy quickly brought her experienced hand towards my spitting organ.

The tissue safely smothered my spurting pee-pee, as Wendy finally got her hand over the spitting end. Harriet just gaped stupidly as I continued humping into the tissue until Wendy sensed my urges subsiding.

Finally I let out a little moan and slumped back on the bed as Harriet’s jaw worked silently. She had been stunned by the display.

She stopped playing with my titties as she eagerly examined the contents of the tissue then went to inspect the bedroom door.

"Is that, - you know?" She giggled.

Wendy smiled as she nodded.

"I didn’t know it came out like that. It’s like a, - like a, - water pistol. How does she do it?"

"She doesn’t do it deliberately. If you get her worked up, she can’t help it. I think that’s why Aunty Janet say’s boys are so easy to control. If you can control how and when they do this, you’ve got control of them like a bull being led by the nose."

"But you said she’s turning into a girl."

"Only where it shows." Whispered Wendy. It’s things like her titties and her butt. Look carefully, see, Robbie hasn’t noticed yet, but just feel how soft and round her butt is."

Harriet stared carefully at my naked hips, then turned to Wendy again and nodded silently. They gave each other a squeeze of secret conspiratorial delight as I still lay across the bed, almost unconscious and still savouring my orgasm. Eventually, Wendy brought me to my senses.

"Come on darling, you’d best get dressed before Aunty Margaret catches us."

Reluctantly I sat up and self-consciously made myself respectable.

After this display, Harriet could hardly leave me alone. Nearly every time we went to the farm, she would demand to see me ‘come’ before going out to ride Toby. Fortunately, my youthful libido enabled me to do this whilst still sharing my nocturnal pleasures with my twin sister. Thus were the rest of our holidays taken up and September eventually came around. The time to go up to our new school had finally arrived.


Sissy Girl Stories