1. Rachel’s Warning
Andy was still finding his way round the mansion. In many respects it was trying to model itself on Knightley Towers but it felt false. Everything here was bright shiny and new. It had none of the authentic grandeur of the English original. Even the doors felt light and flimsy: fake wood instead of heavy oak. The one consistency was the ladies of The Sisterhood: they were as mean and demanding as their compatriots back in England.
He was being broken in as if he was a new maid. He might be new to the mansion, but he was experienced as a sissymaid. His training with his Aunt and his stints at Knightley Towers more than sufficed. Nevertheless, so far he’d only been given basic duties like bed making and cleaning. He’d scarcely talked to other maids and only knew Madam Hunt. He hadn’t yet served on the Ground Floor so hadn’t experienced the Dining Room, Library, Lounge, or Games Room. However, Madam Hunt had promised him a ride with the hounds during his stay. He’d been told that he might be serving Madam Vesperia next week if he was good.
Moving between bedrooms he almost bumped into a pretty blonde maid. She looked far too pretty to be a sissy. “Hello, I’m Andrew,” he said, trying to take a step back. He didn’t want to sound too familiar.
The girl was petticoated. She had tits. She wore 6” heels, an inch higher than the mansion’s regulation 5”. She didn’t wear stockings. Andy had a hunch that she didn’t wear panties either. There was a washed out look in her eyes: a look of surrender. She appeared timid but was clearly bursting to say something to him. “Good Morning, Andrew.” The girl clutched his hand. “Oh don't you look pretty, your uniform and make-up are just perfect. Hello, I'm Rachel.”
“Thank you my.. my Aunt Jane has been trying to teach me ..,” Andy mumbled, entranced by Rachel’s forwardness. “ .. I don't think....”
“You look lovely Andrew, your Aunt would be very proud.” She paused and looked around before continuing, “Andrew, I need to tell you something.” Andy was baffled. What could this pretty girl have to tell him unless it was about how to do sheet corners right in America? She pulled him closer. He almost thought she was going to kiss him. She was taller than him. Bigger than him. He could almost imagine her as a young Aunt Jane. He could feel himself stiffening. “You’re new here, aren’t you?” Andy nodded. “Do not drink the the night time milk before bed!” she stuttered.
“But I like it; it makes me feel warm and sleepy,” replied a surprised Andy. The warm milk helped him relax and was one of the few things he’d liked since his capture. It was comforting. One of the mistresses always came round each evening with his mug. He didn’t drink hot milk when he was home with Aunt Jane. There were better things to do than fall fast asleep when he was with Auntie. Or Will. There were other things that helped him feel warm and sleepy when he was at home. Milk might be a poor substitute but at least it was something warming inside.
“I know it does, but you must stop Andy. Do not drink any more! I don’t let Danni drink it.”
Why?” asked a confused Andy. “I don’t understand.” He was confused in other ways. He’d not been this close to a pretty girl in years. Not if you discounted his Aunt and the ladies at the mansion. This was different. This was a warm, living, breathing girl. A girl of nearly his own age. He glanced down at her heaving breasts. He looked into her watery blue eyes. Alongside her, part of him felt inferior - a sissy playing at being a girl - while part of him was straining to express his latent masculinity. But it was difficult when he was wearing a submissive’s choker, hoop earrings and heels. He wanted to pull her closer and kiss her. But he was just a sissy. If only he could understand why she was talking about milk. Wrapped in each other’s arms, neither of them heard or saw Madam Strap approaching.
“Because I…..” Rachel hesitated: she’d glimpsed Madam Strap out of the corner of her eye. “Because I was once a boy like you, Andy,” she whispered softly.
“Rachel!!!” shouted Madam Strap. “Come here this instant!” she barked. Rachel scurried towards Madam Strap. “Danni was asking where you were and I’ve had to come looking for you. I hope you’re not seducing another of the new sissies.”
“No, Madam Strap,” pleaded Rachel. “I just got a bit lost.”
“A likely story. Leave him alone and get back to your quarters.” Rachel hurried away.
“And you must be Andy.” Madam Strap looked him up and down. “You are a pretty little thing. I can see why Rachel would find you cute. But don’t think you’re special. She often has ‘a thing’ for new boys. She’ll get over it. Now run along and finish your chores.”
Andy went to the next bedroom. When the door had closed and he’d heard Madam Strap’s footsteps follow after Rachel, he stopped straightening the sheets and sat down on the bed to take stock. He’d hit new heights of confusion. Rachel was a boy. A boy like him. And he’d been attracted to her. Would he have been as attracted if he’d known she was a boy. He realised that he would. Maybe he wasn’t quite the beta he thought he was. And the milk? The milk was a feminiser. It must contain hormones or something similar. Rachel had drunk the milk. Should he? It might be nice to look like Rachel.
2. Edwardian Miss
Stepping out on to the terrace, Andy was hit by a blast of hot air. He tried to survey the scene. He was still trying to work out where he was. He was guessing somewhere north of Los Angeles. It was hot. The countryside was green. It was hilly. Maybe inland from San Francisco? Wine country? Wherever he was, it was much too hot to be serving morning coffee outside. He shivered nevertheless, transfixed by the hooded eyes of Madam Vesperia. She stared at him. She looked him up and down. He might be excited by her appearance but his cock had shrivelled under her gaze. He was glad it was hidden beneath folds of dress and latex petticoats. She was as stern and forbidding as any of the Mistresses at the estate. Her riding crop brushed against his neck. He was scared that she might slap it across his face. Instead she teased him, knowing that he was roasting beneath his billowing Edwardian maids’ dress. That’s if the Edwardians ever dressed in latex. ‘Why couldn’t he have a nice mini-dress like the other maids?’ he pondered. It was clearly intended as a form of punishment.
"We have ways to dealing with those who do not comply with our requirements. You and your Aunt have been very stupid. You can never escape The Sisterhood,” she admonished him. “You must be so hot. I can understand why you have been complaining. Ms Perry, will you please see our guest is helped out of his uniform and cleansed.”
Andy sighed with relief. Not punishment. An opportunity to get out of this silly dress. He wondered about Ms Perry. The Sisterhood seemed to have lots of Ms Perrys or Ms Perry types. They’d been at Knightley Towers too. Always lurking. Always in the background. Andy guessed that they were The Sisterhood’s accountants. Always at hand with a word of advice or there to execute instructions. He suspected that they might be the real power behind The Sisterhood. “Then have him oiled and sealed in the vac-bed on the lower sun terrace for the rest of the day,” continued Madam Vesperia.
“Certainly Madam,” replied the pretty Ms Perry. Andy might be melting but butter wouldn’t melt in Ms Perry’s mouth. “Would you like him plugged or unplugged?”
“Oh plugged, of course. It will be nice for the Hunt ladies and I to sip our mint juleps in the shade of the upper terrace and look down him on sweltering and squirming. He’ll be glistening with moisture, latex pressed tight against him, always filled, always unrequited. He’ll be so on edge by the time we release him. We’ll have to draw to lots to decide which one of us fucks him. Or maybe I should claim him for myself?”
3. The Droneroom
It was early evening when Andy finally left Madam Sparveria’s room. At least she’d allowed him to go back into a proper maid’s mini-dress when she’d finished with him. He was surprised to meet Rachel again on the landing. Rachel looked even more washed out and dejected than before. He could see why the mistresses liked Rachel: they’d shaped her into the girl they wanted all their sissies to be.
Rachel took his hand. “Come with me,” she said.
“Wha …..?” Andy began to question as she tugged at his arm.
“Come. I need to show you something. You must be more careful. Follow me, but please keep quiet. We go on the back stairs but tiptoes and no heel clicks.”
Tamely Andy followed the pretty sissy. He could only be impressed by her feminisation. She was like the girlfriend he’d dreamed of all those years ago, in an era before he’d set his heart on Auntie, and then Will. Andy followed her legs with envy: she really could walk in those 6” heels, as if she was born to wear them. “Where are we going?” he whispered as they wound down a dingy flight of stairs.
“Ssssh! You’ll see. But we mustn’t be seen.”
“Why?”
“Because they might take us like they took my Danni.”
“Take us where? And who’s Danni? You mentioned her before.”
“You’ll see. Danni’s my friend,” said Rachel. “Another maid. And it’s a him. And I hope still is.” Andy’s knees felt weak. It had been an exhausting afternoon. Going down stone steps in 5” heels wasn’t easy. Doing it without making a sound was even more difficult. He was amazed Rachel could manage it in 6”. He realised from the number of flights they’d descended and from the drop in temperature that they were below ground level. They reached the bottom. Rachel put a finger to her lips and said, “This is the Dungeon Level.” She gingerly pushed open a door to be met by a blast of warm moist air and an almost industrial level of noise of clanking and whirring motors, as well of loud cries and shrieks. She beckoned to Andy to follow her. A faint pool of light illuminated the corridor ahead. Rachel paused when she reached its fringes. It was coming from a part-open doorway, the source of all the noise. She poked her head round the door. When she pulled back a few seconds later there were tears in her eyes. “We’re too late. They’ve got Danni. It’s all my fault.” She started to sob. “He’s going to be a drone.” Now it was Andy’s turn to urge her to keep quiet. He steeled himself to take a look.
Intending to take a quick glimpse, Andy found himself taking longer than intended. He stood in the doorway transfixed. What met his eye caused his jaw to drop. He’d never seen so much latex outside of the stockroom at B⚥y?. Latex nurses in flowing Edwardian dresses with puffed up power shoulders and blouson sleeves, a mistress in latex with a transparent latex smock, tanks of liquid latex, pumps of liquid latex, sprays of liquid latex and, most remarkable of all, latex dolls. Living latex dolls. Further back a helmeted boy was being sprayed with black latex that congealed against his skin. Glistening helmeted dolls in high heels were strung up in a row. Nurses were administering enemas or worse to them. They were all plugged or being plugged. The dolls were wailing. It was impossible to tell whether they were crying in pain or emitting moans of orgasmic pleasure. Other nurses were inspecting and polishing their finished creations.
Given the hum of activity, he assumed no-one would notice him but he had been spotted. The throb of the pumps and the keening howls from the latex dolls meant he couldn’t hear the supervising mistress say to her nurses, “Pay him no concern. I shall deal with our little snooper later.” Rachel pulled him back from the doorway. She was still crying and hyperventilating, gasping for breath. He led her back along the corridor. “What on earth was that?” he asked when he’d closed the door to the stairwell.
“That’s the Droneroom,” replied a still tearful Rachel. “It’s where they take bad sissies for correction.”
“Correction?”
“That’s what Madam Strap told me would happen to Danni. ‘Correction’ she called it when they took Danni away. She said it would reorientate him. She said I wouldn’t see him again.”
“Correction? Reorientation? What in heaven’s name does she mean? Why would Danni need reorientation?”
Rachel lowered her head and mumbled, “Madam Strap caught him fucking me.”
“Fucking you!” Andy exclaimed. His mind raced. In times gone by, that’s what he’d have loved to do.
“I think she’d been watching us together for some time. She’d seen we were close.”
“There’s close and then there’s close,” observed Andy.
“Yes. Madam Strap said it was forbidden. Danni’s very ‘functional’, you see.” Rachel said without embarrassment. “He’s not been drinking the night milk. He listened to me. Remember how I told you not to drink the night milk when you first arrived? Madam Strap and some members of The Sisterhood want all their sissies to be like me. Now I can’t stop myself: I have to drink the milk. It’s like an addiction.”
“Oh, how terrible!” said Andy in sympathy as he helped Rachel up the stairs.
“Not really,” replied Rachel. “My cock’s shrunk and stays soft, but I have nice boobies and my bottom has filled out. I feel much more like a girl. I don’t even think of myself as a sissy now. I’m a girl. I like having boobies. I want bigger boobies.”
“And you’re very pretty,” Andy couldn't stop himself from saying ,though starting to wonder whether the milk was addling Rachel’s brain. She seemed on a path to bimbofication rather than feminisation.
“Thank you. Do you really think so? You’re not so bad yourself, and that’s without drinking the milk.” Andy would have blushed except his cheeks were already red from the exertions of climbing the stairs and holding Rachel’s arm. Rather surprisingly, she was finding ascent more difficult in her 6” heels. “Some little boobies would suit you. Danni liked playing with my boobies. I liked being fucked by Danni.”
“I’m quite happy being a sissy, thank you,” said Andy. He liked being fucked too, but not like Rachel. She seemed to be becoming just as much of a drone as Danni: a feminised bimbo fuckdoll. Her earlier advice about the milk was true: it really was dangerous. It didn’t just soften lines, it softened the brain too. “My Auntie and my boyfriend are happy with me just the way I am.”
“But it’s not up to them now, is it?” said Rachel. “It’s what The Sisterhood wants that matters.”
“I guess so,” agreed Andy while silently planning to hold true to himself (and to Auntie and Will). “So how do you know Danni was there?”
“I saw his helmet go on before they started spraying. He’d already got boobies too. They must pump the drones full of hormones.”
“Or just pump them?” mused Andy.
“Yes, possibly. Either way, he won’t be active or functional now. He’ll never be able to fuck me again,” she said with regret. “Not now he’s a drone.”
“A drone? What’s one of them?”
“A programmed sissy. Totally helpless. Permanently encased in latex. Fed instructions and hypnotic music through their helmet. That’s what you saw down there: The Sisterhood’s Drone Factory. It’s where they take all the ‘difficult’ cases.”
“How do you mean, ‘difficult’?”
“Sissies who won’t comply. Sissies who disobey instructions. Sissies whom they don’t see as feminine enough. Sissies who retain a bit of alpha. They’re turned into drones.”
“But don’t drone bees mate with the Queen?” questioned Andy.
“They’re not like bees. They’re Sisterhood Drones. The Sisterhood’s drones have no ‘stingers’ and are solely there to serve the members. They’re the lowest of the low.” said Rachel as they spilled out on to the upper landing where they’d started. “I think sometimes they become pets. Adoring little pussycats. You must have seen some of them in the Library.” Andy had. There had been several at Knightley Towers. He’d assumed it was just cosplay. He hadn’t realised the more sinister side.
They were just parting when Madam Strap came down the corridor. She caught sight of them holding hands and barked, “Rachel, what are you doing in this Wing again? I’ve told you once before about coming over to this side. You know what happens when you get mixed up with other boys. Or is that your game? Quite the little cock tease!”
“She was just advising me on my make-up,” interjected Andy.
“Thank you, but I think Rachel can answer for herself,” responded an annoyed Madam Strap. “I thought after what happened yesterday that you’d have learned your lesson, Rachel. I’ll make sure you have extra milk tonight. Now get back to your station.”
“Yes, Madam Strap.” Rachel scurried across the landing past Madam Strap, swaying beautifully on her heels.
“She’s such an airhead,” said Madam Strap as Rachel’s heel clicks receded into the distance. “Such a pretty thing but she’s become a real Valley Girl. Now Andy, how are you doing? Madam Vesperia speaks highly of you. She recommends that you spend more time on the terrace tomorrow.”
“Oh!” Andy gulped. At least roasting under a maid’s dress or in a vac bed would be better than being turned into a drone like Danni.
“I’ll make arrangements. I’ll get Rachel to help given you two seem to have bonded. I just hope she doesn’t form a bond with you like she did with Danni.”
“What happened to Danni?” Andy asked naively.
“He’s having some retraining and repurposing. I don’t think we’ll be seeing him again on the upper floors. But I understand Madam Dark is planning to get a new cat next week.”
“Ma ….”. Andy just managed to stifle his exclamation. Madam Dark! Could he ever escape that woman?
4. Elizabethan Miss
Madam Strap was true to her word. Next morning she arranged for Rachel to dress him in the garden room. And there was his nemesis: Madam Dark. She hadn’t changed. She was back in The Sisterhood and as vindictive as ever.
Rachel helped him into his dress while Madam Strap and Madam Dark watched. She giggled as tucked him into his panties, struggling with his unruliness. ‘Why did she have to be so damn attractive?’ Andy cursed to himself. It was so embarrassing. She might be a boy like him but he couldn't help himself. His errant member did not go unnoticed by the Mistresses. This boy was clearly going to need a double dose of evening milk or he would start causing trouble like that stupid Danni.
“Not all the way down Girl,” Madam Strap instructed Rachel as the maid knelt to fasten the zip on his mermaid length, latex hobble dress. “Allow the Mistresses to see he is petticoated.”
While Madam Dark teased him, “Every trickle of moisture beneath your uniform, will be suffered with Pride. For serving our Mistresses on the sun terrace is an honour. Do not disappoint us Child.”
He was going to have another hot morning on the terrace. He wondered who’d be fucking him in the afternoon. It almost made him hope for Madam Vesperia, or even a junior like Madam Strap. He had a nasty suspicion that it would be Madam Dark.
“I see you’re wearing hoop earrings,” said Madam Dark. “I do like a boy in hoop earrings. Don’t you, Madam Strap? It shows that they know their place.”
“Quite,” said Madam Strap.
Andy knew it was going to be Madam Dark. She’d staked her claim.
5. Terrace Pressé
Andy tried yet again to move. It was no use. The vac bed was serving its purpose well. He was relieved when he was finally released and taken for a shower although wondering whose bedroom he was going to be taken to afterwards. He stilled fear that would be Madam Dark but secretly hoped for Madam Vespera. She’d been quite tender with him yesterday.
He was surprised when he was presented with black latex uniform to wear rather than be ushered to a bedroom in a towelling dressing gown. The uniform was austere but elegant and all encasing. At least his face wasn’t covered otherwise it would have been almost as hot as the vacbed. He was taken to the Schoolroom for some ‘extra lessons’.
The lessons were not at all what he expected. was made to They weren’t more instruction about deportment or the role of a maid. Madam Stern, his teacher had clearly been briefed by Madam Strap. There were strict messages about the importance of secrecy: the Sisterhood had seen his appearance on ‘The Late Show’. The existence of drones was classified. The importance of sissy development and compliance was emphasised. Andy was given bedtime reading and was going to be tested tomorrow. There were going to be tears before bedtime. Madam Stern was going to make sure of that.
Meanwhile, in the other wing of the mansion, his fate was being discussed.
Continued in ‘Dirty Diapers Californication’
