Mother and my aunt Paige had to have spent hours putting me in all sorts of little frilly dresses-- none of which felt flattering in the array of mirrors around me, constantly reminding me of what I have become. But they settled-- as my first piece of sissy garb for me to don until further notice-- on a pink short skirt dress with sleeves out to my wrists that frilled at the end, and a petticoat beneath my skirt to puff it out. Paige had an collection of specially made panties that would both make my butt look "cute" (in her words), and display my chastity cage around my cock to be seen at the mildest lift of my skirt.
The makeup was the most gruesome part to me. Eyeliner is a pain to apply, even if somebody else is doing it for me. Watching my face transform, from my little boy features to a place between a girl and a dress up doll, was demeaning to witness. I looked in the mirror and didn't see myself anymore; I saw a sissy little girl who would play the role as an accessory to whomever was at the opposite end of my leash.
A blonde, curly wig sandwiched between my head and a ridiculous bow that matched my dress (for lack of a better term... far too) perfectly.
They guided me back to the mirrors, giggling to each other as if I wasn't even there. In my head, I wasn't.
"Perfect," mother said as they donned the finishing touches on me, "You're an artist, sis."
"Not quite perfect, yet," my aunt humbly declined, "He... or should I say, SHE needs a name."
"What?" I whimpered.
"Of course," Paige cooed, "you wouldn't want everybody finding out your a boy like this when you introduce yourself, would you, Ethan?"
Staring into my reflection in the mirror, I knew she was right. That'd be what gave me away if anybody asked who I was, dressed like a prissy girl. Surely, they'd know I was a crossdressing little boy.
"Hang on, sis," mother cut in, "I actually like that idea."
"What?!" I whimpered much more frantically.
"You heard me," mother added, "I think it'll add to your humili-- ...punishment if you tell people who you really are. So they know who they're talking to..." She hugged me from behind, looking at me through the mirror, cupping my chastity device, "You're Ethan... mommy's little, sissy son."
My mouth quivered at the thought. "Please, no," I begged, just a hair above under my breath.
"No?" mother questioned, "You mean you WANT to be a little girl?"
"Wha- N-n-no..."
"I'll make you a deal," mother started, "you can be a girl if mommy can keep you in chastity for a-whole-nother month."
I couldn't do that. Don't spare me the humiliation, I guess. I made the decision to skip town and never speak to my family again once this thing came off. Anybody who knows me in my hometown won't in a month. So if I have to be the sissy little boy, Ethan, then I'll take it. I guess.
"So?" mother insisted, "What do you say? Are you a girl? Or are you mommy's sissy little son, Ethan?"
I didn't come to my decision right away, despite my plan two paragraphs ago. I didn't have any time to think things through in that moment, so I answered, admittedly with my dick; "Ethan..."
"S'cuse me?" mother pushed.
I sighed, "Y-your... sissy..." I forgot her title for me.
"Mommy's little," mother corrected.
"Mommy's little..."
"Sissy son," she continued.
"Sissy... son..."
"Ethan."
There I looked in the mirror to recite it back by her command; "I'm mommy's little sissy son, Ethan."
"We'll have to work on that," mother said. "Paige?"
Aunt paige sat on the couch, admiring her work and the mother/son moment at play. "Oh we'll definitely be doing a LOT of work on him," she chuckled as she stood and approached me.
"What does she mean?" I asked, afraid.
"You're going to be staying with your aunt Paige for a while, Ethan."
"W-what?!" I protested.
Just then, as swift as my eyes could miss, a collar latched onto my neck, locked in place with a key that read; 'Sissy in Training,' followed by a leash in the hands of my aunt, who pulled me up off my feet, close enough to her face that I felt the warmth on her breath as she said, "I'm going to teach you how to be a proper, subservient little girl for your mother." She dropped me down, "Starting with your greeting."
Before I could ask, "M-my greet-" she cut me off.
"Look at yourself in the mirror," I obliged to aunt Page's command, "and go over how you'll greet people."
I stammered, "Uh... h-hi..." I said to my own transformed reflection, "I-I'm Etha-"
And before I could finish, Paige cut me off, "Wrong," not shouting or scolding, just stern and dominant enough to make me jump... and shrink before my very eyes.
"Wh-wha..." I looked around, then up at my mother, who shook her head no with raised eyebrows that drove the point of obedience home. She motioned toward aunt Paige, revealing the source of my slow shrinking. Of course she'd have the power as well.
"Again," Paige demanded.
I struggled into my composure, "I-I'm mommy's-"
"Wrong," aunt Paige declared again, shrinking me further, slowly sending me into a mild panic. "Say 'hi,' first."
I looked up at her, afraid, and said, "H-hi... I-I'm-"
"Wrong," aunt Paige said again, shrinking me now to a foot shorter than my regular height. "Don't look at me. I told you to look at yourself in the mirror."
"R-right..." I was trying to be good, no longer out of a desire for freedom, but out of terror.
"Wrong," Paige said again, shrinking me again.
"Tsk, tsk," mother clicked, hands at her hips shaking her head at me.
"B-but..." their sharp gaze silenced me, my eyes back to my sissified reflection in the mirror. "I-I'm Ethan, mommy's little-"
"Wrong," they said in unison, both shrinking me at the same time which doubled the amount they took off of me, and doubled the rate at which I shrank. They laughed and each said, "Jinx!" like this was a game to them.
"Again, Ethan," aunt Paige demanded. "Feel free to get it wrong again," he bit her lip in excitement, "this is fun."
"You heard her, son," mother insisted through laughter.
Now I wasn't sure what to do here; get it right, or get it wrong? "Um..."
"Wrong!" they both shouted with a cackle, shrinking me, now two feet smaller than my normal height.
"Oh my god," Paige said, collecting herself from hilarity. "I could do this all night."
"You want to?" mother insisted.
"I'll get the wine," Paige said as she departed upstairs, "Don't shrink him without me."
"No promises," mother added, moving her gaze back to me with a devious smile.
Paige left for the wine while mother firmly guided me back to the dresses to browse. "Lovely, aren't they?" she said. "You won't be wearing any boy clothes anymore, Ethan. Not if you don't get your act together, and learn to obey me."
"Y-yes, mommy," I managed to let out, trying not to let the wide variety of humiliating garb get to me.
"I'm serious," she added before crouching down from behind to whisper; "You can stay a little girl forever for all I care."
Aunt paige returned with a wine bottle and two glasses, setting them on the end table by the couch, and pouring herself and my mother a glass. She handed mom the glass, and clicked them together with a "Cheers."
They tugged me back to the mirrors, giddy with excitement. "Okay, Ethan," aunt Paige started, "try again." She sipped her wine, eager to watch me slip up.
"Um..." I already forgot the phrase they wanted to hear, "Um..."
Paige's lips smacked from her sip, and she so casually said, "Wrong," before shrinking me further, and laughing with mother.
"I-I..." I tried again, eye to eye with my sissified self in the mirror, "I'm... I'm my mommy's-"
"Oof!" mother taunted, "You got that much right, dear, but... wrong!"
I shrunk further. Quivering in my breath from frustration.
"You have to have confidence, Ethan," aunt Paige explained. "You have to want it," she said with a laugh.
My eyes winced at the thought of wanting this. "I'm..." the phrase started coming back to me, "I'm mommy's... little..." mother watched me through the mirror, eager as she edged me on, "sissy... son..." her mouth was wide in a smile, eyebrows raised in anticipation, "...E-Ethan..." I stayed silent, eyes shut as I waited for my judgment.
"Well," mother sipped her wine and looked over to aunt Paige, "he got the phrase right."
"Uh-uh," Paige answered in decline, "he needs to say it with feeling." She shrunk me further and explained, "You have to mean it," with a devious grin. "Now; eyes back on yourself, chin up, posture straight, and go."
"I'm mommy's little sissy son, Ethan," I repeated on command.
"Wrong," aunt Paige said, shrinking me without hesitation, now putting me two and a half feet smaller than my normal height. "It didn't feel like you meant it."
Mother put her free hand on her hip and tapped her foot, "Come on now, Ethan," she scolded in a playful tone.
"B-but, I don't know how..." I whimpered.
"Aw, poor thing," aunt Paige mocked. "Doesn't know how to sound like a confident little girl." She refilled hers and mother's wine glasses. "Tell you what. I'll give you some advice if you give yourself a little kiss in the mirror."
The women chuckled as I turned my attention from them, to myself in the mirror. I say 'myself,' but it truly didn't feel that way. I guess that made it a little easier, but no less degrading. So I approached the glass pane for a kiss, stopping when my collar choked me. I looked back at the other end of the leash, limp on the ground, and saw aunt Paige keeping it steady with a single foot.
"Go on, Ethan," aunt Paige demanded.
"B-but..." I pointed at the leash.
"Kiss!" she barked, well aware of her inhibition she placed on me.
I turned back, and stretched with all my might, actively choking myself in the process. My lips pursed out as far as I could push them; the red lipstick teasing my field of vision so slightly. I gagged from the collar as I nearly over extended myself to come lip-to-lip with my reflection, leaving a tiny kiss mark on the glass.
Laughter ensued between my aunt and mother, who clicked their glasses together in fun.
"Okay, sissy " Paige mocked, "if you REALLY want to know how to sound like a proper sissy girl," (I didn't), "you need the voice. You need to sound dainty and girly, like this;" aunt Paige gave a closed-mouth cough before speaking in an over-the-top girly voice, "I'm mommy's little sissy son, Ethan."
Mother laughed at Paige'a guidance, "Yeah, say;" and gave a similar impression, "'I'm mommy's little sissy son, Ethan, and I LOVE my mommy's smelly stinky feet!"
They shared more laughs as Paige had to ask, "Oh my god, really?"
Mother regained her composure, "Not yet," and sipped her wine, "but we're working in it," giving me a wink.
"Mom..." I groaned.
"No complaining," aunt Paige demanded. "Now, give it another go. The whole thing. Your mom's part too," she added, eyes lingering toward mother in a snicker.
"Yeah, son," mother said, "tell yourself you LOVE my stinky feet after work."
"Ew, Monica!" Paige pretended to gag, and laughed.
The ladies fumbled on each other from their cackles. I'd heard brief tales of my mother and aunt Paige in high school; the popular girls, the brats, the bullies. They took these traits into their adulthood, and showed no signs of stopping. I saw it in them as they mocked me like a twerp with his face in the toilet for a swirly. I waited patiently, exercising my mental muscle that took the ridicule. The effect it'd have on my psyche in the long run wasn't apparent to me then.
"Okay," aunt Paige started, collecting herself, "go ahead, sissy. Give it your best."
I turned my attention back to my reflection, quivering at my girly state.
"Before you fuck up again," aunt Paige started, "let me just..." she bent over me, nearly at a ninety degree angle and still looming above my semi-shrunken body, and adjusted it to her liking; posture straight, left leg slightly bent and crossed behind my right, hands at my back-- even down to my pointer fingers hooked together like a shy little girl. "There," she pridefully declared. "Now say it."
My quivering breath fought back at my suppression of it, feigning the confidence I lacked as I looked myself in the eye and said, in a dainty little voice, "I'm mommy's little sissy son, Ethan."
The silence in the room lead me to believe I got it wrong again. I anticipated shrinking, but was met with, "And?" from my mother, expecting more out of me.
I peered back at her, confused. "And?"
"You love..." she pushed further.
"I-I love..." the answer came back to me, "m-my mommy's... s-stinky..."
Mother smiled and nodded in anticipation, waving her had in a circle to coax me further, "Yes..."
"S-smelly..."
"Uh huh..." she said as aunt Paige's hand held back her laughter at her mouth.
"F-f-f-" I almost didn't say it, "Feet.."
"Keep going..."
Keep going? I couldn't recall what more she wanted until the reflection of her high heeled foot met my peripherals, "A-after work..."
"What else?" mother inquired further, testing me in either my devotion, or level of surrender.
What else could I say? Nothing honest, that's for sure, but what else did she want to hear? I thought about her goal here-- not my punishment, but to make me "appreciate" her foot odor. Though pandering, I couldn't believe I said some of the things I said here:
"A-and... first thing in the morning," I answered, mindful to keep up my girly tone.
"Oooh, good one!" she praised, "And?"
"And... at night."
"ALL night?" she pushed further.
"Uh huh..." I responded, begrudgingly.
"When else?" Why was she doing this to me? I know why... but WHY?!
"And... um... a-after a workout..."
"Oooh, yeah, on a hot day?" Paige could hardly contain herself at mother's remarks.
"Of course..." I tried sounding sincere, but my acting was futile.
Then Paige lost it, laughing hysterically at my humiliation and manipulated state. Her fit caused her to spill a bit of wine on the mini stage I stood upon, surrounded by images of my sissified self.
Thank god the pedestal was tiled, or else I'd never be able to, "Lick it up, sissy," out of a carpet at my aunt Paige's demand. The stain would have surely left one on my rear by her hand.
After a gaze timed somewhere between a glance and a stare, my knees approached the cold floor, my palms followed suite, and my tongue lead them both as I lapped up the bitter red wine. (Side note, this was my first ever sip of wine in my life).
"See?" aunt Paige turned here eyes toward my mother, still facing me, "It just takes a bit of degradation. Keep reminding him of his place, and he'll be eating from the palm of your hand."
"Or the floor!" mother laughed with her as they clicked their glasses.
"Oh," and also aunt Paige started after sipping some more of her juice, "Wrong!"
And I shrunk further as they laughed some more. And shrunk further, all evening, until I got it right. And I didn't start growing until I got it right; again, and again, and again. And I only grew fractions of how much they shrunk me. And I only grew if they were paying attention. Any subtle inconsistency would warrant my shrinking.
There I stood, up on my pedestal of humiliation while my aunt and mother giggled and gushed and gossiped on the couch, staring this sissy that I became in the eye, keeping my posture straight and composure dainty as I feigned eagerness within my girly tone, repeating; "I'm mommy's little sissy son, Ethan, and I LOVE her stinky, smelly feet after work..." and so on, coming up with other heinous scenarios where her odor would radiate the strongest.
Over, and over, and over.