Sissy School

EmpressMelanie wrote:Hello, sissy. Are you undercover???

Clickie clickie to listen to this audio

I would love to know what makes you tick, sissy, and whether you have ever shown your naughty self to the world!

BraLover wrote:I'm an undercover sissy as well. :( :oops: women's clothes/bras/panties/boots feel and fit so much better. I'm starting to buy more women's clothes/boots as result. My massuse had me take her purse to buy items for her. I've never had this happen as it caught me off guard and honestly I didn't mind. I did cupcake told me without questioning her. With this happening she's dug her nails into me and Ms Ally said that's sign of submissiveness without saying anything to her. She's hot and next week I'm going to wear my women's slacks/boots to massage and if she notices I'll finally come out of closet.

Jamie Michelle wrote: ↑Sun Sep 25, 2016 2:17 am

EmpressMelanie wrote:Hello, sissy. Are you undercover???

Clickie clickie to listen to this audio

I would love to know what makes you tick, sissy, and whether you have ever shown your naughty self to the world!

I am so embarrassed, Empress Melanie! You just caught me along with my local movie star out!

You see, I was moseying along in my usual duck-suit, when wouldn't you know it, a tiny asteroid hit a corner of the duck-garment hard enough to pull the entire ensemble clean off my body.

Well, who hasn't had that experience, right?

But it was what came next that was truly shocking: Burt Reynolds started stomping out the flames of my discarded mallard vestments. It wasn't his swift-thinking act of fire-safety itself that I found to be shocking, though, as I would expect Mr. Reynolds to act forthrightly in thus manner under these circumstances. Rather, it was that the horrible, horrible flames spread, as if to consume Mr. Reynolds himself!

All of us--myself and my pet snail--exclaimed in shock as to what we were witnessing before our very eyes. Could it be that our hero from the Cannonball Run series of informative documentaries featuring the ahead-of-its-time Lamborghini Countach econobox really be engulfed in lashing fire?

As I rubbed my chin while furrowing my brow in deep contemplation of this matter, Billie--as my pet snail is named (it's a she)--slapped me hard across the left side of my face-cheek while yelling at me with an intensity that reverberated across my cranial dome, "Get ahold of yourself, you stupid cunt! Look at what's happening to our Burt!"

"Of course!", I thought: how, after all these years of striving for the good life, could it really reduce back to this? You think that you've got your own little corner of the world carved-out for yourself, walking around in your duck-suit, when all that gets taken away from you by some freak astronomical event.

"Jamie, snap out of it! Burty needs our help!", Billie screamed in my face cupcake shook me hard by my shoulders.

Coming quickly to my senses, I remembered the handy buckets of thermite kept at regular intervals along the sidewalks of my town. Recalling the ignition-temperature of thermite, I knew then just how perspicacious my local townsfolk were in planning for such moments, as in this instance the thermitic material would act as nothing more than sand as I doused-out the ever-increasing flames upon Mr. Reynolds.

Shaking off the granules of rust and aluminum that had snuffed the retina-searing conflagration upon Mr. Reynolds, he cackled with an incisive laughter that echoed throughout our trailer park, exclaiming in his sly voice, "Now that's what I call invigorating!"

Billie and I looked askew at our cherished Burt and at each other, wondering if this had finally been the number that did his mind in.

"Burt, I tell you, I thought those flaming duck garments almost got you for good this time!", I said, as a tear started to coalesce on my face--a tear formed half in joy and half in terror of what almost was.

"Aw, buck up, kiddo! I've been treating myself with flame-retardant as of late! I was never in any danger!", Mr. Reynolds said with a wink and coy grin as he delicately wiped with his right thumb that same tear that had just now streamed down the left side of my quivering visage.

In my then-state of trauma, I quietly vowed within myself from that day forward to never don the vestments of a duck-suit again, however feminine they be, due to the fire hazard that such ornate garments present to myself and others. It was only by the chance of luck that the hurling meteorite struck at such an angle and with enough cupcake as to entirely rip clean from my nubile body those damnable wearables--as unlike Burt, I had not previously taken measures to make myself flame-retardant.

* * * * *

The celestial spitball that had vanquished my feminine duck-suit left me upon the sidewalk of our ever-inebriated park of trailers as one born new into the world. Which is to say, naked. A quick-thinking servant of the public weal offered me clothing, which I quickly adorned.

But to my great embarrassment, I soon discovered that they were male garments! Oh, the embarrassment, to be caught in public in male clothing!

I'll never be able to live that day down!

* * * * *

Thank you very much, Empress Melanie, for understanding the embarrassment that can result in being discovered in embarrassing garments! Particularly in reference to movie actors!

Oh, my!