Act 2, A sissy well practiced

Jesse looked at himself in the wardrobe mirror, measuring the lines and curves of change he could see. Six months. It had been six long months since he had started at Stanfield's academy, and already he was finding it hard to remember life before he had become a trainee slutwife. His body had altered, subtly but surely over the course of his studies. Where he had always been wiry and slender, certain places had softened up a little… and curved out. His calves and thighs taking on smoother slopes up towards his widened hips. His perky, little buttocks sticking out as if they remembered all the thousand-and-one times they'd been spanked, and were just asking for another. His shoulders sloping more gently backwards, shaped by half a year of good-posture lessons… and the little bit of extra weight they now had to carry. The sissy scooped together those two, small mounds of flesh upon his chest and wondered if it would count as a cleavage yet? They weren't exactly breasts just yet… certainly not compared to Suzy's magnificent set… or even Lizzy's tender offerings. Subtle, was clearly the algorithm's operative word for him after all. But they were his sensitive little buddings… and he loved them. This was his body now, growing ever more fit to serve its purpose. What could he possibly dislike about that?

He hooked in a pair of jewelled earrings… another present from Suzy after the other femboy had persuaded him to let them pierce his ears at their last sleepover. The dangling, silver things came with a matching necklace as well. It would seem Daddy's memory that his pet had forgone all his or her allowance a while back, had slipped away completely now. The rich had such a shallow pool of remembrance for money and promises… that was something he'd learned well by now. There were the last few transactions they'd made printed proud and bold, then just an endless soup of purchases they were no longer interested in.

He tied up his long hair into two neat, symmetrical buns today. Quirky but provocative. The sort of thing that made people want to reach out and pat him on the head. It had taken a long while, but he finally felt he'd mastered all of Mrs Durren's catalogue of 'approved hairstyles'... though he was sure she'd have come up with something even more complicated by the time their next 'hair and face' lesson came around. The difference between learning to be a first class slutwife, and any other general fucktoy, was becoming more apparent every day. As he struggled to get a grasp on looks and outfits specifically catered to draw out his 'unique inner beauty'; while still passing Claire in the corridor dragging herself off to work with her bangs still glued together by the remains of yesterday's rigours. It was hard not to feel a little pride in how much effort he put in to appear as pick-up-and-screwable as possible, each and every day.

Especially as his keenest adviser in that regard wasn't much use in the mornings at the moment. Betsy snored away behind him, the large swelling at her front obvious even under all those blankets. Her sessions at the centre were a lot more lenient now, considering the main goal had clearly been a success. She still had to go in to provide some ‘entertainment’ for those particularly fond of rubbing up against a big round belly, or ever growing pair of extra-sensitive breasts; but all that was reserved for afternoon sessions. Of course that meant Jesse had a more fully awake and rampantly horny best friend to deal with every evening… but he didn’t mind. They fell asleep together in the same bed pretty much every night these days, and he kissed that bump goodbye every morning. There was still a chance it was his, after all… though the idea that someone like him could be a father seemed fairly ridiculous at this point. He was sure some larger-penised stud had flushed out his meagre offering from her uterus almost immediately. That very thought almost exciting him a little as he had it. He caught himself daydreaming about such humiliating comparisons more and more these days… Was it the increased winter dosages the algorithm put in their food? He’d been told the cheery Christmas delirium that all the Home-raised teens seemed to share was just a side effect of all those little mood-boosters supposed to counteract the cold and gloomy months. Still, that didn't change the fact that you steadily woke up with more of a smile upon your face and a skip in your step as winter wore on.

Talking of the weather… he needed to get dressed. Slipping one leg and then the other into his crotchless, white-cotton legwarmers. Those and a small sweater were the only concessions made to Stanfield’s official uniform over the colder period. Still, they kept the worst of it away, and though it left his little cock and balls to shrivel up under that short, short skirt… The sissy wasn’t sure he’d be able to feel comfortable having them constrained by something even thin and lacy anymore. It would feel so strange and constricting compared to his usual exposure. He slipped his feet into the tall, black heels with their needle-thin points and looked around to check he had everything. His little bag of makeup and necessities was tucked under one arm… and he headed out toward another day of slutty education.