Dom’s Sissies Pt. 20: The Party (Part One) (Patreon)

Somehow, Liam had managed to keep himself together throughout the week, at least until Friday. Much of it had been the promise of the weekend, the thought of even a brief respite from the routines and humiliations that now governed his life. The rest had been a matter of forcing himself to live entirely in the present. He had learned to get through each hour by pretending there would never be another one. Whatever was happening to him now was all he had to endure. There was no point thinking about what came afterward, because afterward, for the moment, simply did not exist.

But that trick only worked on the surface. Beneath his outward compliance, a deep and increasingly bitter rage had been accumulating all week. Every humiliation he swallowed, every indignity he endured without protest, left some residue. And lately he had begun to wonder whether this was simply what his life would become until he found some real, permanent way out. He would endure things he could scarcely believe he was enduring, convincing himself each time that he could bear just a little more. Then, sooner or later, the accumulated outrage would explode, and he would lash out. Then they would punish him again for it, like when Clara had busted his balls in that torture chamber, after which he had been put into that fucking baby outfit. And then the whole process would begin again, with the anger and outrage quietly building beneath the surface until the next inevitable outburst.

"Hmm," he thought, "that at least would mean they could never actually beat me."

Corey, meanwhile, had spent the week trying to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be here for a while. Not forever, of course. These assholes couldn't be allowed to win. But for the foreseeable future, at least, he was stuck here, and pretending otherwise wasn't helping him.

Once he had reluctantly accepted that much, he had begun paying closer attention to the other beginners. Not just to what they said about their situation, but to how they behaved when the staff weren't watching, how they reacted to being dressed up and addressed by their new names, and how much of their apparent obedience seemed genuine. There were differences, sometimes quite striking ones, that he hadn't really noticed before.

By Friday, he had developed a little classification system in his mind to place his fellow classmates. Three categories had emerged: those who supported this, those who opposed it but went along with it anyway, and those who were quite openly against it.

It wasn't exactly scientific. He was working with limited information, and people weren't always particularly forthcoming about their feelings. But it gave him something to do, and perhaps even some idea of whom he could count on.

The first category, those who supported it:

Candy was the easiest to place.

Of all the beginners, Christopher Pendergast seemed the most enthusiastic about this bullshit. He was also the only one Corey knew of who had openly admitted to having watched sissy porn and forced fem stuff before coming here. That alone wouldn't necessarily have meant much, Corey supposed. What distinguished Chris was that he seemed to enjoy not only the feminine clothes and appearance, but also the humiliation. He seemed to get really excited, at times, about the loss of status and powerlessness they all experienced.

However, there was something else too. Occasionally, after periods when he had seemed particularly excited or eager, Candy would become noticeably quieter. He would avoid looking at the others, seem embarrassed by his own behavior, and sometimes barely speak for a while. Large parts of the shame apparently came from the recognition that he was trapped in a circle where his arousal would shortly return and then again markedly influence his behavior.

Corey had a theory about those occasions: Post-nut clarity.

At least, in some form. He wasn't sure when exactly Candy would even masturbate with the cage on, maybe rub one out in the short cleaning times in the communal showers. Or maybe he was even advanced enough for a finger in the bum already and did it that way. At any rate, Corey wasn't about to ask.

Misty was harder to figure out.

Corey had tentatively placed him in the same category. Maurice was their Black classmate, and, with Chris, the only other beginner who seemed to be really enthusiastic about the whole business. However, he wasn't nearly as outspoken about it. In fact, Maurice was rather quiet in general.

Unlike with Chris, who was quite open about his sissification fetish, Corey had no idea whether Maurice had ever watched sissy porn before coming here. What he did know was that Maurice no longer had anyone outside the Foundation. He hadn't been willing to talk about what exactly had happened between him and his folks out there. But he often made reference to having no one to return to in the outside world.

One thing Corey had found out, however, was that Maurice had approached Dominic himself, against his family's wishes. Apparently, Dominic had been the only immediately available way for Maurice to experience some feminization. Putting one and one together meant that Corey could guess that Maurice approaching Dominic caused, or at least contributed, to his fallout with his family.

But what struck Corey most about Maurice was the almost palpable sense of excitement he seemed to carry in him. He still looked basically like a guy, just as the rest of the beginners did, and the changes so far had been relatively modest. But Maurice seemed to regard even the smallest developments as signs of forward movement. There was something almost feverish about the anticipation Corey occasionally caught in him, as though they were still on the endlessly slow ascent of a roller coaster, approaching a drop Maurice had been waiting for all his life.

Cherry was another matter.

Aidan didn't strike Corey as someone who particularly enjoyed being a sissy. Nor the degrading name and especially the red wig that already foreshadowed the kind of hair Mercer would force the natural brunette to have. From the bits and pieces Corey had managed to gather, Aidan had spent much of his life being bullied, and whatever family connections he once had were now gone as well. Apparently, his family hadn't appreciated his sissification, somehow believed it to be voluntary, and cut contact. It made his attitude easier to understand, if not any less sad. He had nothing else.

The second category was considerably less ambiguous. Those who were probably opposed to it but did nothing about it:

Petal, for instance, was plainly miserable.

Peter didn't seem at all comfortable with the shit taking place in the mansion, and Corey had seen enough of his reactions to know that the embarrassment hadn't worn off. But Petal also seemed thoroughly resigned to his situation. From what Corey had gathered, Peter had been facing serious legal trouble over a string of petty crimes before Mercer intervened. Mercer's lawyers had somehow managed to keep him out of jail.

And now that favor was being held over his head.

Sophie belonged in the same category, though for somewhat different reasons.

Samuel Ellwood was obviously humiliated by his predicament, perhaps even more consistently than Petal. But his response was just to keep his head down, do what he was told, and avoid attracting attention. He was frightened of punishment, and humiliation, and maybe even attention at all. What mattered most about him was that Samuel had wanted to become a dentist. And it hadn't been some vague childhood fantasy, either. From what Corey understood, he had been an excellent student with a realistic plan for getting there. This mattered because it made Corey think if they ever needed him, his bitterness about losing his future could help them.

There was just something particularly cruel about watching someone abandon a perfectly achievable future, not because he had changed his mind, but because other people had apparently decided he wasn't going to have one.

Finally, there was the third category. What Corey had privately begun calling their little French Resistance. It was a rather grand name for three guys in dresses who couldn't even decide what to do about their own situation, but he liked it anyway.

Minnie was the most questionable member.

Of all the beginners, Max Bielski was probably the one who most openly disliked the whole business of being turned into a sissy. He made no particular effort to disguise his opinions when the staff weren't around, and he could be remarkably frank about how ridiculous and humiliating he found the academy's expectations.

Yet that was generally as far as it went.

Max had adopted a kind of fatalistic attitude toward his situation. He didn't like it, didn't pretend to like it, and didn't expect anyone to convince him otherwise. But he also seemed unwilling to do much about it. In particular, he was reluctant to confront his family over their apparent role in his predicament, even though Corey suspected that doing so might offer him at least some possibility of changing things.

In practice, Max was often scarcely more resistant than Petal or Sophie. Corey knew that. He had considered putting him in the passive category more than once. But because he was at least verbally more defiant than Peter or Samuel, Corey had decided putting him in the active resistance category was justifiable. Though really, Corey knew, it was just because he didn't like to put only Liam and himself in that category.

And really, his own placement probably deserved some scrutiny as well, Corey knew.

He certainly hated what that bastard Mercer was doing to him. He had no intention of accepting Chloe as his identity, no matter how often the staff used the name. But he had also spent much of the week avoiding confrontations and looking for ways to get through the days without making things worse.

That sounded suspiciously like the passive category. He had considered the matter for a while before deciding that he belonged in the third category after all.

At least, he hadn't actually given up on getting out. He might have accepted that he would be here for the foreseeable future, but that wasn't the same as accepting that he belonged here.

Which left Liam.

There was no question where Liam belonged. If their little French Resistance had a leader, it was Liam Dawson.

Not because Liam had organized anything particularly impressive. So far, their resistance consisted mostly of private complaints, occasional arguments, and a shared determination not to believe the things they were being told about themselves.

And yet, here they were, sitting at one of the little pastel-colored tables in the dining hall, eating lunch like good little sissies.

Today's meal, for the sissies at least, consisted of a small portion of chicken breast, steamed broccoli, and a small helping of brown rice. It wasn't bad food, Corey had to admit. In fact, it was quite good. The problem was just that there wasn't a lot of it on anyone's plate.

That had become a familiar problem for all of them. They weren't being starved exactly, but there was a low-level hunger with them everywhere now. No meal was really filling. And, to their chagrin, the diets worked. The slight calorie deficit the beginners were kept in was gradually reducing their weight, producing slimmer, more delicate figures and, of course, making them weaker.

The difference between their meals and those served on the raised section made the whole thing considerably meaner, in Corey's opinion. It was, of course, all deliberate. Not only did they have to sit at different tables, theirs literally being placed lower in the room, but they could also see and smell what their supposed "betters" got.

Up there, at their large wooden tables, they ate generous portions of roasted chicken with golden, crispy skin, potatoes, vegetables prepared with butter, and proper sauces today. There were bread baskets on the tables too, and some of the diners had already been served little desserts by the sissies on lunch duty today.

For a moment, as Corey looked up at them, he found himself watching his girlfriend Emily as she sat at her table of four, talking to her fellow "elites". But then, as though she sensed him, Emily turned her head and looked directly down at him.

Their eyes met.

Corey's gaze immediately darted back down to his plate. He felt his cheeks grow warm, suddenly acutely aware that he was wearing a skirt in the same room where his girlfriend sat. He wondered if she was thinking about his embarrassing failure to perform last week.

She, in fact, wasn't. After looking at Corey for a moment, and him having the gall not even to make eye contact with her, she soon found herself distracted again by her friend Hannah Kobayashi, who was saying, "So anyway, and then she said to me, 'Really? You want to make it your career to care for some perverted weirdos?'" Hannah scoffed. "People really have no idea how convincing a Mercer sissy gets. It's a shame we had to sign those NDAs."

"Yep," agreed Emily. "Their voices are amazing. I don't know how he achieved that, but like Jessica or someone really advanced sounds like I sound, like she never went through male puberty at all."

Down in the sissy section, Liam was currently stabbing at a piece of broccoli with considerably more force than the vegetable required. Max, sitting beside him, was joking about the size of their portions and comparing them to his apparently tiny cock, and Sam seemed perfectly content to just concentrate on his meal.

"At least it's Friday," Corey thought, exhausted. There was that party that would go on the whole weekend, but that was a problem they would deal with when they got to it.

"Oh, by the way," Samuel said, breaking his silence, "my dad's picking me up after lunch."

Corey looked at him. "What?"

"My dad," Samuel repeated. "Do you guys want to see me off outside?"

"Wait a minute," Max said, grinning beneath his wig. "Didn't you make a little mistake there? We all have to stay this weekend, 'member?"

"Yeah," Liam agreed. "Because of that fucking degen party."

Samuel blinked at them through his round glasses, and then a small, almost smug smile appeared on his face.

"Didn't you guys listen?"

"To what?" Corey asked.

"When Sterling explained the weekend arrangements," Samuel said, sounding rather pleased with himself. "It's only the intermediates and finished sissies who have to stay. We're beginners. We're not even allowed at the party, so they don't need us here."

Corey frowned. "Oh yeah. She did say something like that."

"Well, excuse me for not hanging on every word these assholes say," Liam muttered.

"Yeah," Max chuckled. "Don't you get too proud on us for paying attention to..." He adopted an exaggerated imitation of Liam's voice. "These assholes."

Samuel gave a little shrug, but he was still smiling. It was a rather unusual sight, and Corey guessed, now smirking himself, that before he came here Sam had probably been a kind of know-it-all.

"Fuck me," Liam said, leaning back in his chair. "Nobody's coming to get us outta this shithole. Well, at least you can fuck off, that's something. Enjoy the weekend in our place, I'm counting on you." He looked with mock severity at Sam.

Sam grinned, pushed his glasses up, and answered, "I got you, big boss."

After lunch, the four of them made their way out of the dining hall and into the mansion's corridors. The other three were accompanying Samuel to Dr. Keene, who would give him his belongings and normal clothes back and unlock his cage.

Corey had a weird, almost pleasant impression of the whole situation. There was something comfortingly familiar about it, four classmates accompanying one of their friends to collect something from a teacher. If he ignored all the fucked-up circumstances, it could almost feel normal.

Of course, the problem with that, even if he managed to ignore all the fucked-up circumstances, was that he shouldn't still be in school in the first place. He had just finished school and was supposed to be embarking on his adult life. Instead, he'd fucked things up with his gambling, and now, because of it, he'd ended up right back in school, only in a considerably more deranged version of it.

When they reached Dr. Keene's office, Samuel knocked.

"Come in," came her voice from inside.

Sam opened the door and stepped through, while the other three remained in the corridor.

"Ah, Miss Ellwood," Keene greeted him. "Here for your weekend leave?"

"Yes, Doctor."

Corey felt a peculiar little tingling in his stomach at that. Almost a thrill, he realized, shocked. For some reason, it had excited him for just a moment to hear his male friend being addressed by Keene as she would a female student.

"I didn't feel shit," he told himself. Maybe if he denied it to himself, it wouldn't repeat. And really, who knew what he had felt? It was already over again. He had just been confused.

Sam then closed the door behind him, and the three of them waited in the corridor until a normally dressed Sam emerged again.

He had exchanged his blouse, skirt, and tights for a pair of blue jeans, sneakers, and a white T-shirt with BROOKLYN COLLEGE printed across the chest in large, black letters.

He almost looked like an ordinary guy again. "Almost," Liam thought. But his brown curls fell to his shoulders now, which was why he was the first beginner in their class who didn't have to wear an annoying wig anymore. "This is the downside of no wig," Liam decided. "At least I can put it off and look kinda normal again." Together with Sam's round glasses, clear skin, and increasingly delicate features, he generally gave Liam a somewhat effeminate impression.

"Look at the man's man!" Max said, grinning as they began walking, three of them in skirts, one in pants. "And? Is it true what Master Mercer," he bowed his head dramatically, "says when it comes to 'simply existing beside a sissy as a man can highlight one's masculinity'?"

Sam blushed lightly and said, "Yeah, totally. Feel like a real winner here." Then, mimicking Dominic, he added, "'You're my living trophies to my victory over you.'"

They all laughed, even Liam. It felt good to reduce something that had devastated their lives to a joke, even if just for a moment.

They stepped out through one of the mansion's side entrances into the warm Friday afternoon. The sun was shining down hot now that it was early summer, and a pleasant breeze stirred in the trees on the property. The parking lot was unusually quiet for a Friday afternoon at the mansion. Of course, with the party coming up, most of the mansion's population was staying.

"Nice day to get the fuck out of here," Liam remarked.

"Sure is," Sam agreed cheerfully.

They stopped near the edge of the parking lot, where Samuel said his father usually picked him up. Luckily, they didn't have to wait long. A blue Mercedes soon pulled into the driveway and approached them at an unhurried pace. Behind the wheel sat a man in his early fifties, with neatly combed, slightly graying hair and a friendly face.

"That's him," Samuel said.

The car pulled up beside them, and the driver's window slid down.

"Hey, Sophie!" the man called with a smile. "Ready to go?"

"Hey, Dad. Yeah, just saying goodbye."

Corey glanced at Liam, who had turned his head toward Samuel. Even Max's grin faded a bit.

Samuel, meanwhile, was already opening the passenger door.

"These are some friends from my class," he told his father, gesturing toward the three of them. "Chloe, Lily, and Minnie."

"Nice to meet you," his father said warmly.

"Yeah," Liam said. Max gave a small wave. "Hi." And Corey managed a polite smile.

Sam climbed into the passenger seat, pulled the door shut, and waved through the window as his father drove away. The three of them stood watching the Mercedes disappear down the driveway.

"Did you hear that poor fuck's dad call him Sophie?" Liam asked.

"Course," Max muttered, apparently lost in thought. "And 'Sophie' called us by the other names too."

"While he's dressed like a guy," Corey added.

"Hm. Whatever's going on there," Liam said.

They turned toward the mansion again, their skirts shifting in the warm breeze.

The rest of Friday afternoon went by largely uneventfully for the beginners who stayed. Elsewhere in the mansion, however, things were considerably busier. The intermediates and finished sissies had been assigned various duties in preparing for the party and were hurrying through the corridors carrying boxes of decorations, flowers, and supplies.

That evening, at around a quarter to nine, the six beginners who had stayed behind began gathering in the corridor outside their rooms. They knew that if they weren't inside by nine, when the doors locked automatically, punishment would be sure to follow. They used their remaining time to talk to each other before being locked in for the night in their assigned pairs, or, in Max's and Maurice's cases, alone, since their respective roommates had left for the weekend.

Liam was in the middle of complaining about how ridiculous it was to have a bedtime on a Friday night when the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted him. They all turned to find Dominic Mercer coming down the corridor toward them.

He was dressed for the evening in an immaculate dark suit, with a crisp white shirt and a burgundy tie. There was an unmistakable spring in his step, and the satisfied smile on his face was impossible to overlook. In fact, Corey couldn't remember ever seeing the man in such an excellent mood.

"Ah! There are my little beginners!" Dominic exclaimed. "Wonderful. And all gathered for bedtime. I was hoping to catch you all together. You really are good girls."

The six had fallen completely quiet as they looked up at him.

"I trust you've all had a pleasant Friday?" Dominic asked them.

A few of them murmured their agreement. Liam said nothing.

"Splendid, splendid." Dominic glanced at his watch. "Now, I realize you're all expecting to be locked away in your rooms in a few minutes, but I've decided that would be rather a shame tonight."

Now that got their attention.

"You see, we have a very special weekend ahead of us. Our guests are beginning to arrive, the festivities will soon be underway, and I find myself in an exceptionally generous mood."

He gave them a broad smile. His teeth were in excellent condition.

"So I've decided to give you girls a little treat. For tonight, you may consider your usual bedtime suspended."

Corey looked at Max, who raised his eyebrows.

"Not only that," Dominic continued, clearly enjoying their surprise, "but you're welcome to make yourselves comfortable anywhere on the mansion's upper floors. The lounges, the library, the sitting rooms, all at your disposal. Stay up as late as you like."

"Seriously?" Max blurted out.

"Quite seriously, Minnie."

Dominic held up one finger.

"There is, however, one very important condition. You are not to go downstairs to the party. The festivities are for our invited guests and the more advanced girls. You will be there to serve my guests soon enough. This won't be the last such event. But not tonight! Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," several of them answered.

"Excellent. And remember, I would hate to discover that my generosity had been misplaced."

His tone remained perfectly cheerful, but nobody mistook the warning.

The party, as Corey understood it, wasn't simply a Friday-night affair. It would continue throughout the weekend, with festivities on Friday and Saturday nights, before the guests finally departed on Sunday. Sunday night itself would be quiet, allowing the Foundation to return to its usual routine on Monday morning. For the intermediates and finished sissies, that meant a very demanding weekend, with much of the daytime occupied by preparations and whatever else the visitors required. The beginners, meanwhile, had been told to keep out of the way.

"Well then!" Dominic said, clapping his hands together. "I shan't keep you any longer. Enjoy your evening, girls." With that, he made his way back down.

Dominic considered collective rewards just as indispensable a part of conditioning as collective punishments. Not only did it set incentives for good behavior, but it also encouraged them to regulate one another's behavior. If everyone benefited from sustained good behavior, everybody had a reason to keep everybody else good.

Back in the corridor, the beginners all looked at each other. Sure, they weren't allowed outside, but it was a warm summer night, it was still light outside, and tonight promised to be, at the very least, a very interesting night.