2T4U/Jack/Aaron Sissy/Attic/Force Panties/Change Behind Shelf/Toss Skirt

You don't want him to look too boyish, but you also don't want him chickening out at the last minute. A skirt should be just the right middle ground. This will give a whole new meaning to "chasing skirts", you chuckle before opening the third box, which is as arduous as the first. Finally tearing that bitch open you push the dresses aside and pull out a few promising items. Stretching the waistbands carefully you guesstimate whether or not they'll fit until you find one that looks right.

"Try that one. Tell me if it's too tight," you order, tossing the garment just inside his reach at the edge of the shelf. You watch his arm reach out to snatch the garment before you hear the rustle of clothing once again. After a moment he whispers unnecessarily, "uh, Jack, it's not too tight, but, um . . . "

You raise your eyebrow, thinking to yourself, Here we fucking go again. How many times do I need to convince this sissy brat? Out loud you teasingly reply, "What, don't like skirts?"

"No, n-no! I like it, but, um, it doesn't really . . fit. It's too big, it keeps sliding down." Oh. OH. I'm fucking dumb. But does that mean Melony was fat once or that he's just skinnier than her? Why the fuck am I asking like it matters? Diving back into the box you find one that stretches a bit less than the first one. A nice purple affair covered with lighter splotches in a vague flower shape. "Okay, try this one."

Once again, a snatch, a shuffle, and a timid whisper. "It, um, it fits." Turning toward the second box you sigh as it looks as nigh impregnable as the last two. Suddenly you have an idea on how to cheer yourself up.

"Is it pretty," you ask him. "The skirt, I mean. Is it pretty enough for a cutie like you or should I look for another one?" You hold your breath and wait for his reply, noticing the very subtle sound of shifting clothes. I bet he's waving those hips for me again. Little slut.

He finally lets out a squeak followed by a dainty cough as he tries to speak, before he responds in a rushed, husky whisper, "Uh, um, y-yeah. Yeah. It's pretty. I like it. I mean, it's pretty enough for-for me." Damn right, you think. Having successfully cheered yourself up to tear open the second stupidfuckingpieceofshitsonofa-ohit'sopen box you peruse its contents, being extra careful to choose something neither too small nor too large. Before long you find a pink t-shirt with frilly ruffles at its edges. With a hope and a smirk you toss it his way.

Snatch, shuffle, whisper. "It fits. It, uh, and it's pretty, too. Do you . . . want me to come out now?" Is he fucking kidding or fucking teasing? GAH! "Hell yeah! Get that pretty little butt out here! I want to see what kind of pretty little cutie I've been missing," you command and encourage. Finally, you'll about to get something about of this.

Slowly and delicately he steps out from behind the shelf to present himself in all his adorable glory. Well, "his" is relative. Looking at the purple-skirted little thing in front of you, all your penis can see is a female in need of fucking. Her skirt comes down to the knee revealing her pale, bare legs, hairless and smooth in youth. Her pink shirt stops just below the band of her skirt threatening to show off her cute tummy or back. Her bare, smooth arms are revealed entirely by the short sleeves of her t-shirt. Nervously, her hips rock side to side, her hands tugging at the edge of her skirt. Her face blushes bright red and she can't bring herself to look you in the face or even ask how she looks. Actually, she can't look you in the face because she's staring at your rock hard dick tenting your towel once again.

With your signature smirk you decide what to do:

• Give the sissy a proper girl's name.
• If she wants to look then she can suck it.
• She totally wants it, just bend her over and make her your woman.