First up – a quick video of the type of satin uniform you will be expected to wear as one of our sissy waitresses.
In the picture below you can see images from a recent fancy dress party some of our sissies served at. Notice the cum filled mouth at the bottom…that’s the role I’ve marked out for you: a cum guzzling satin waitress.
In this week’s true story we read about a feckless sissy whose girlfriend forces him to work as a satin-clad waitress at her friend’s catering firm. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your cravings) he’s about to learn that the waitresses have to provide other services.
- Naughty little flirt in a pencil skirt.
Most people tend to think of revenge as a very male thing, but that’s only because men are so obvious in the manner in which they do it. As you will learn from my story of forced feminization, women can take just as much pleasure in revenge, and not only are they able to do it more stealthily but with greater ingenuity. And that’s why I had no idea when my girlfriend showed me the website for her friend’s business that it was the first move in a game of vengeance.
Her business, Tarts with Tarts, was a catering service that specialised in French food, served by sexy young waitresses in black satin skirts, white silk blouses and gleaming, starched aprons. I was bedazzled by this sexy uniform and peered at the homepage where a stunning brunette was described as ‘a traditional French serving girl’. Miriam, my girlfriend, saw me looking at her legs.
“They all wear fishnet stockings and garter belts. Guys love it…she’s already got bookings for two football club dinners and a bachelor party.”
The brunette was immaculately made-up with bright red lipstick and a large cleavage accentuated by the tight, silk blouse. She was holding a tray in one hand the other resting on her hip. My eyes travelled down to the shiny satin skirt, apron and fishnet stockings and ended at her black stilettos. The image made me so horny that my tiny penis started to harden.
Miriam nudged me. “I bet you’d like to see me in that outfit, wouldn’t you?”
I guiltily mumbled ‘yes.’ Guiltily…because while I’d definitely love to see Miriam in that serving girl’s uniform, I’d much rather see myself in it. Worried the mumble betrayed my thoughts, I overcompensated and went for a manly affirmation. “Damn right I’d like to see you in it.”
Like all my attempts to be manly, I didn’t pull it off. My whole life I’d had girlfriends and gone through the boyfriend motions, but my deepest desires were all about being a pretty sissy with a slutty little mouth which I longed to put to good use. I’m sure you can imagine. Since graduating from USC I’d been job-hunting and nothing had turned up; Miriam, by contrast, went to a top firm straight off. Alone all day, I spent my days in her lingerie, office-wear, or whatever took my fancy. Every day my fantasies became more elaborate and I would take more risks – growing my hair, putting on makeup and even shaving my legs (claiming that runners always shaved their legs). My latest trick was to dye my hair blonde. My Scandinavian ancestors had bestowed me with fair hair but I couldn’t resist going blonder. I was amazed that Miriam didn’t suspect.
But that was my mistake, because let’s face it – girls are much more observant than men. Especially Miriam. I remember once I tried to lie about when a photo was taken, and she was able to expose the lie because she recognised the t-shirt I was wearing and when I threw it away. But here’s the thing…you could barely see the t-shirt…it was under a jumper and you had to strain your eyes to see it. But that was Miriam…attentive to detail…and it was inevitable that she notice something strange afoot in her wardrobe. But like I say, I hadn’t considered that. I thought I was getting away with it.
Step two of Miriam’s plan was executed on late Saturday afternoon – a week after showing me the website. The two of us were chilling at home: Miriam was about to get ready for a work event and I was waiting for her to go out so I could try on her new leather skirt. That’s when the doorbell rang and her British friend rushed through the door.
I perked up immediately because Miriam’s new friend was hot. She was called Elle, and If I had to describe her it would be as a blonde with substance. She had the tits, blonde hair and blue eyes of a Barbie, but she had a law degree, a British accent and spoke several languages. She was also tall, worked out obsessively, and was the sort of girl you did not fuck with. Or indeed fuck…as she didn’t have a boyfriend and said she didn’t want one.
As always, she came in looking as slick as ever, wearing PVC leggings, knee high boots and a crisp white shirt.
“Oh my God…you’ve gotta help me, Miriam,” she said.
“Two of my girls are ill. Sisters. They’ve got gastroenteritis. I need a waitress for tonight or I’m seriously fucked.”
“I can’t,” said Miriam, “I’ve got a really important social thing at work. I can’t miss it.”
“Shit…shit…shit,” said Elle, taking a seat between myself and Miriam. I stared at her latex clad leg and felt a tingle of excitement down below. Elle, as normal, was completely ignoring me. The weird thing was about this new friend was that she’d just surfaced from nowhere a few weeks previous. Now they were inseparable. Miriam said that they’d met at a gym.
“But you’ve got loads of friends,” said Miriam, “you must be able to find someone.”
“No. There’s a wedding which a bunch of people are going to, and everyone else has gone to Coachella. I’m gonna be so fucked.
“Why don’t you call an agency?”
Elle turned to Miriam. “It’s 6.30. The event starts at 8. You’re my last hope.”
“Sorry but it’s impossible.”
“But if I lose this job I’m gonna lose my business.”
“And if I miss this event I’ll lose my job. I’ve gotta entertain a Japanese client.”
“Maybe Patrick could do it,” Miriam suggested.
Both of them turned to me. Elle turned back to Miriam.
“But the whole point of my business is the waitresses. I can’t produce a waiter at a football dinner with thirty guys all looking forward to sexy waitresses. And there’s a guy there who holds the key to all my future clients…if I mess up I’m finished.”
“So put him in a skirt and put a bit of makeup on him. No one’ll know…and if they do you can just say that he – or rather she – is transgender.”
“No way,” I said.
They turned once more to look at me. But this time it was with that appraising stare girls give to each other, analysing their hair and clothes and stuff.
“Last year, Sandra and I got drunk and we put some make-up on him and he looked kinda cute. Didn’t you, Patrick? And look at him…he’s blonde.”
“No!” I replied, not sure if I was replying to the question about being cute or reaffirming there was no way I’d be a waitress.
“Yes, you did. Go on…do this favour for Elle…you wouldn’t want her to lose her business, would you?”
I stared at Elle and she stared at me. I gulped. There was something about her piercing blue eyes that was intimidating…or maybe it was just how beautiful she was. Suddenly, a vivid image of that brunette on the web page flashed through my mind: the satin pencil skirt…the silk blouse…the fishnet stockings. And then my penis started to tingle – which was all the more reason to categorically say No! Being a serving girl may have been one of my deepest fantasies, but it was all too close to the bone.
Then Miriam stood up. She was angry. “Look, Patrick…Elle’s my friend and she needs me…but I can’t help her out. So you have to help her out on my behalf.”
“But nothing. You haven’t done a day’s work since graduation and now you’ve got a chance to earn some cash…and you’re gonna take it.” Then she turned to her friend. “What do you think, Elle? Can you can pull it off?
Elle looked at me impassively. She lifted her perfectly manicured hand and played with my hair a moment.
“I think I can make it work.”
“Okay…so, I’m going upstairs to get ready for tonight. You’re gonna go with Elle.”
And that was that. I was gonna be a waitress for the night. What I didn’t know, though, was that Elle and Miriam had a lot more in store for me than waiting tables: thirty football players needed to be served…
Click on the image above to buy Sissy Waitress.