A little sissy story (Patreon)

I had been having muscle spasms in my feet for a week or so, and they were becoming more regular and were keeping me awake at night. I’d complained about it to some of my friends, and a strange girl that I knew suggested that I wear silky women’s panties. I was so taken aback that I just laughed at first, but then asked her why she thought that. With a strange little smile, she said “Oh I don’t know, I just think it might help.”

I must admit two days later, I was so desperate for a full night sleep that I bought a pair at the local department store and wore them to bed. The relief was immediate. Literally the moment I slipped them on, my feet stopped twitching and I slept like a log for the whole night. The next morning when I took them off, the insole of my feet started clenching up again. I didn’t understand it, but aside from a little embarrassment I was just so relieved to have a cure that I was glad to continue wearing them.

I saw my strange friend a few days later and being too embarrassed to admit I’d tried it, simply asked her again why she thought wearing silky panties might help with foot cramps. She smiled that same strange little smile and said that the effects can wear off, and if they do then adding more girly attire will help. She told me I’d know what to do when it happened. No matter how much I tried to covertly ask her, she simply wouldn’t give me any more information and she seemed to be playing a counter game to get me to admit I was wearing panties as we spoke.

Sure enough, a couple of weeks later the beginnings of foot cramps started to creep in at night. After the cramps got more severe, I thought that if silky panties had helped in the first place, maybe wearing a matching bra would give me relief now. Because I’d been wearing panties nonstop for a couple of weeks, I’d had to buy more. I’d ordered them from the internet and for some reason unknown to me at the time I’d ordered several matching bra and panty sets. As it turned out, wearing them they did help. Like before, the reprieve from the spasms was instant.

Adding a bra upped the ante a bit. Because while there was no way someone out in the world could detect that I had on a pair of panties, even though well-hidden it was not impossible for a stranger to notice the outlines of a bra under my shirt. Or if I were to hug someone, the chance of them feeling it and realizing it wasn’t just an undershirt was a reality. In the beginning I only wore the bra to bed and when at home alone, but eventually it just wasn’t worth dealing with the foot cramps while out in public, and soon I was wearing it all the time. I got used to the feel of it and the fear of being discovered diminished.

It was about a month after that the discomfort in my feet crept back into my life, and as my strange friend had predicted, I somehow knew that adding a sexy garter belt and thigh high stockings would halt my suffering. Adding this additional piece of feminization to my outfit was easier than either of the others because despite myself I’d gotten used to the strange underwear, and again it was highly unlikely anyone would ever know. I hate to admit it, but I got so used to wearing the things, that if the cramps were to stop on their own and I was able to quit wearing them it would have felt strange to go without. Not that I would have kept wearing them, I honestly didn’t like to, but it was just kind of a non-issue now.

The enigmatic game continued, and a month later I was required to add a butt plug to the ensemble. And then a chastity cage. Though these items took away any doubt in my mind that whatever was happening to me was not some bizarre natural event. Instead, this was a game, and was the design of some consciousness. A perpetrator was doing this to me. Even so, I still wasn’t too bothered because it happened so gradually, and though emasculating, this strange aspirin against my pain was entirely private. The pain of the cramps, and the realization of how to remedy them would creep into my mind like the movement of the hour hand on a clock. By the time I consciously realized that I’d need to lube up a fake rubber penis and shove it up my ass to be worn almost constantly, I’d already subconsciously accepted and gotten used to the idea.

This was all about to change though. It wasn’t until almost three months later that I shot up in bed awake with terror and foot pain. Not only had the cramps returned with a vengeance, but the horrible realization that the only way to stop them would be to take the giant leap forward of wearing a full French maid uniform. Either that or some other equally shocking outfit which was a sexualized parody of womanhood. Something the internet referred to as “sissy clothes”. This was a word I hadn’t thought of since childhood, and even then, it didn’t have the exact meaning it had come to have. Back then it simply meant someone who was excessively weak, or feminine.

I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. Not only were the cramps jolting me awake any time I fell asleep but the realization that ordering an outfit on the internet would be too slow and that I’d have to find a brick-and-mortar store in which to buy a sissy dress in person. This thought tormented and humiliated me. Even worse, the anonymity of a department store was not possible. I’d have to go to a small adult or costume store and buy something in my own size. Surely the person would know it was for me. But that thought paled in comparison to the idea of wearing it in public. Even with all that dread, the thought of losing even one more night sleep was absolutely unacceptable. I’d do virtually anything to be able to fall asleep, and that was after only one night. How would I feel in a few days? Like it or not, I WOULD be buying a sissy dress in a store tomorrow, and then wearing it in public. In fact, I the pain of these cramps was enough and the desire to stop them so urgent that I would probably wear it out of the store as soon as I bought it.

The next morning, I was startled out of a few moments sleep by a knock at my door. It was my strange friend come to check on me. She told me she had been thinking of me and thought I might be interested to know that she worked at a dress making shop downtown. She thought I might want to come take a tour. All of this was too much to ignore, and I snapped at her. “It’s you doing this to me isn’t it!? Why, how? What’s the end game, and what did I ever do to you to deserve this torture?” She smiled that strange smile again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just thought you might be interested to see the girly sissy dresses we sew at my work. I think you’d look really cute wearing one, that’s all.”

I sighed then and realized she wasn’t going to give me any of the answers I wanted. “Ok fine. You win. I’ll wear sissy dresses and all this other crap all the time. You know you’re ruining my life; how can I sink any lower than this? I guess at least we’ve reached the bottom.”

She laughed and muttered something that sounded like “You ever think about sucking real cock?”

The End.