By bitten lips and soft hands

Once the lessons of the day had ended, the freshman class of Stanfield's academy filed themselves down into the entrance hall to get dressed and go home. Their first week at the school had finally come to an end… and that morning they had all stood here chained together in prim, new uniforms seemed so, so far behind. There was a strange and unified sense of nostalgia and trepidation at the weekend ahead hanging over all of them. The 'new normal' had taken such hold, that they now feared to leave it behind… even for a day or two.

Jesse and the others milled around near their wardrobe lockers, chatting and embracing as the required deep kisses goodbye were exchanged. Even those classmates who he had barely yet spoken to seemed determined to let their hands linger just a little longer upon his hips and rear as their tongues intertwined. Not that it was him alone that received such treatment. Once again, there was a sense of deeper connection between them all… as opposed to the world outside and whatever lodgings they were returning to. Here, they were trainee bootlickers and dolls dressing up together… out there, each was alone amidst the predators they did it all to impress. It was a pensive fear not so much of the strangers in the dark… but of where their own natures might lead them, once they skipped scantily clad from the arms of their submissive kin. They had perhaps all started this week with some vestige doubts about whether they fit the role that had been set for them. Yet now, that same coming to terms that even Jesse was experiencing opened wide questions regarding the free time they had ahead. None of them felt like the same nervous young person who had first stepped clumsily through this threshold in their oh-so-short skirts and tall, blocky heels. The uniform just fit now… exposing as much of them as it should with each practiced step. Some switch had been flicked that could not be undone. They’d feel strange to not have so much flesh on display.

The one person Jesse had not expected to be consumed with the same buzzing energy, was Suzy. He had never stopped admiring the other sissy’s complete and unbending devotion to his role as ‘Daddy’s Fucktoy’. Having now seen and felt and even tasted some hint of what that entailed… he had to admit to himself a fascination with the femboy. Perhaps even a jealousy, that all of it seemed to have come so easy to him. That there was the rival he needed to catch up with, if he truly wanted to throw himself down this path laid before him.

Except Suzy was clearly filled with the adrenaline of the moment. Hopping from foot to foot like some internal spring had popped loose within his effeminate form. Jesse couldn’t help be distracted by the way this made those near-perfectly round breasts bounce and sway as they both stripped naked at their side-by-side lockers. Neither could seem to decide which outfit from their cherry-picked selection to wear, they just kept picking out options for the other and enjoying the results. It soon became obvious that the game was more about watching the other dress and undress than anything else… yet neither could seem to stop, determined to see every beautiful shade the other could take and always happy to lend a hand to pull things up, or down, or tight. Eventually everyone else seemed to have just faded away… finally drifted off to whatever awaited them in the weekend ahead. Fran and Lizzy had said their goodbyes, but then left sharing knowing smiles, barely noted by their two, sissy friends.

At the bottom of each wardrobe remained two matching white dresses. Simple and loose and flared. They were pure and gleaming and unblemished, made of material so fine and soft that it just hinted at translucency. Dressed in these the pair of them felt almost like priestesses or princesses, ready to be plucked into some old and grainy movie and made sacrifice to some great beast or monster. There was little attention paid to connotations, however. As soon as they were alone they were wrapped up in each other’s arms once more, recurring that kiss that they had shared at the maglev station. Through only the thinnest of veils, Jesse felt the press of hardening nipples against his chest and down below: a place where his own heightened sensitivities crossed paths with another. They clung to each other like storm-tossed sailors to a mast, and simple rode out the tumult of their own overflowing passions.

When finally, the moment had slipped past… Suzy pulled himself free, arms holding back a Jesse whose lips still ached for further contact. Panting, the other sissy announced; without question of recourse:

“Daddy said you’re to come over, tonight…”

Some other Jesse, a week-long gone, might once have tried to awkwardly refuse. Out of pride or fear or simple shyness. But this was not the same small creature… and he was following where soft hands led him, even before his collar began to buzz.