Sissy's New Life

Chapter Twelve: The Morning Panic

The morning sun filtered through the curtains as Mitch bustled around the house, dressed in nothing but delicate lingerie, his movements a flurry of activity as he tackled the chores assigned to him by his mistresses. With each step, the soft fabric of his outfit brushed against his skin, a constant reminder of his submission to Lanya, Alexandra, Abbie, and Lauren.

As the time for his university lessons approached, Mitch hurriedly finished his tasks, his heart pounding with anticipation. He knew he had to leave soon, but there was one problem: the stubborn eyelashes that refused to budge.

Panic rose within Mitch as he frantically tried to remove the false lashes, his fingers tugging at them in desperation. But no matter how hard he tried, they remained firmly in place, mocking him with their persistence.

"Please, I need help," Mitch pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation.

Lauren and Lanya exchanged a knowing glance before stepping forward to offer their assistance. But their help came with a condition—one that filled Mitch with a sense of dread.

"We can help you, Mitch," Lanya said, her voice soft yet commanding. "But only if you agree to drink a litre of semen before you leave for university."

Mitch's heart sank at her words, knowing that he had no choice but to agree. With a heavy sigh, he nodded his consent, steeling himself for what was to come.

Abbie, ever the instigator, saw an opportunity to add to Mitch's humiliation. With a wicked grin, she suggested drawing in bold letters on his back: "Sissy Slut."

Mitch's cheeks burned with embarrassment as he reluctantly agreed, the weight of his submission pressing down on him like a leaden blanket.

With the deal struck, Mitch braced himself as the vile substance was brought before him. With each swallow, he could feel the liquid slide down his throat, leaving a bitter taste in its wake.

As the last drop disappeared down his throat, Mitch felt a strange sense of resignation wash over him. He was theirs, completely and utterly, his fate sealed by his own actions.

Finally ready for his university lessons, Mitch hurriedly wiped off the remnants of his makeup, leaving only the stubborn eyelashes in place. With a heavy heart and a sense of trepidation, he left the house, the words "Sissy Slut" emblazoned boldly on his back for all to see.

Throughout the day, Mitch felt the effects of the semen coursing through his veins, a constant reminder of his submission to his mistresses. His mind felt clouded, his thoughts sluggish and disjointed as he struggled to concentrate on his studies.

But despite the challenges he faced, Mitch pressed on, determined to prove himself worthy of his mistresses' approval. And as he navigated the halls of his university, his every movement a testament to his submission, he knew that he was theirs, body and soul, bound by the unbreakable chains of his own desires.

Returning home from university, Mitch stepped into a surreal scene. The living room had been transformed into a makeshift laboratory, filled with strange contraptions and equipment. Before he could process what was happening, a wave of dizziness overcame him, and darkness enveloped his senses.

When Mitch finally regained consciousness, he found himself bound to a chair, his body adorned with long, exaggerated false nails and oversized rubber breasts affixed to his chest. His face was coated with layers of heavy makeup, transforming him into an unsettling caricature of femininity.

Panicked, Mitch struggled against his restraints, but they held him fast. He was trapped, at the mercy of his mistresses' sinister plans.

Lanya's voice pierced the air, commanding the others to prepare the recording equipment. Mitch's heart sank as he realised the extent of his impending humiliation—their depravity would be captured for eternity.

With the equipment ready, Lanya signalled for the ritual to begin. A funnel was forced into Mitch's mouth, connected to a bucket filled with a revolting liquid. Mitch gagged at the sight, knowing what awaited him.

Over the next 72 hours, Mitch was subjected to the grotesque feeding ritual, forced to consume every last drop of the repulsive concoction. Each swallow brought with it a wave of nausea and despair, but his mistresses showed no mercy, revelling in his degradation.

As the final drop slid down his throat, Mitch's body sagged with exhaustion. But his torment was far from over.

Abbie, always eager to escalate the humiliation, had one last act of cruelty in store.

With a sinister grin, she approached Mitch's cage, holding a plastic bag filled with a vile substance—scat, collected from Abbie, Lauren, and Lanya.

"Eat it," Abbie sneered, her voice dripping with malice. "Or you'll be tied up on campus tomorrow with writing all over you."

With a heavy heart and a sense of resignation, Mitch knew he had no choice. He was theirs, bound by chains of his own submission. And as he choked down the foul substance, he realised that his descent into darkness was far from over.