Somebody’s watching

You sit there in the dim bathroom light, chest still heaving from the intensity of your shame-fueled orgasm. The laptop screen glows with rows of tiny clits, locked sissy nubs, and humiliating captions that now feel branded into your brain. Your own spent button, barely three-quarters of an inch soft again, twitches weakly against your thigh, a thin string of cum connecting it to the tissue you used to clean up. The words “proper clitty territory” and “lean in” echo with every heartbeat.

You close the browser, delete the history out of lingering habit, and stand on shaky legs, ready to slip back upstairs as if none of this had happened. The door behind you opens with a soft click.

Tawny stands there in nothing but an oversized sleep shirt that barely reaches the tops of her thick, creamy thighs. A delicate pair of pink lace panties dangles from her index finger, swaying like a pendulum. Her eyes flick from your flushed face to your soft little nub, then to the now-dark laptop screen. A slow, wicked smile spreads across her lips.

“I see you needed more,” she purrs, voice husky with sleep and renewed arousal. “Such a horny little thing you are tonight. Couldn’t even wait until morning after I already drained that pathetic button twice?” She steps closer, the scent of her skin—warm, feminine, with the faint musk of earlier sex—filling the small room. “But I agree… you should try panties. Here, baby. Put these on and come to bed.”

Your mouth goes dry. The panties are soft, expensive-looking, with delicate lace trim and a tiny satin bow at the front. Tawny watches with heavy-lidded amusement as you step into them. The fabric slides smoothly up your legs and cradles your ultra-sensitive package. There’s almost nothing to contain; your tiny shaft and balls nestle neatly into the front, creating a smooth, feminine mound. Tawny reaches down and adjusts you with two fingers, tucking everything perfectly so only the pretty lace bulge remains.

“Mmm, fuck, look at that,” she coos, tracing a nail over the fabric. The light touch makes your clitty twitch visibly. “My husband’s tiny clitty looks so cute already. No ugly man-bulge, just a sweet little panty-pouch. Come on, sissy.”

She takes your hand and leads you back to bed. Once under the covers she pulls you tight against her voluptuous body, pressing your lace-covered mound against her bare thigh. You fall asleep like that—humiliated, throbbing, and strangely content inside the soft prison of her panties.

Morning comes, and Tawny wastes no time turning her new discovery into a full-day game of gentle, relentless sissification.

She wakes you with soft kisses trailing down your chest, stopping at the waistband of the cum-stained pink panties. “Good morning, my pretty little sissy. These stay on all day. No taking them off unless I say so.” Her voice is sweet but commanding. She makes you wear them under your regular clothes while she lounges around the house in a short silk robe that keeps falling open to tease you with views of her heavy breasts and smooth, puffy pussy.

Every chance she gets, she finds little ways to push you deeper. While you’re making coffee, she slips behind you, slides a hand down your pants, and strokes the lace directly over your rapidly swelling button. “Feel how nice it glides? That’s because you’re so small down there. A real man’s cock would stretch these pretty panties. Yours just looks adorable.”

At lunch she sits across from you at the kitchen table, legs spread casually so you can see she’s wearing nothing underneath. “Touch yourself for me,” she orders softly. “Through the panties. Use those fingers the way I like—gentle circles right on the head. That’s it… nice and slow, like a good girl rubbing her clitty. Don’t you dare stroke like a man. You don’t have one of those anymore.”

Your face burns crimson, but the humiliation only makes you harder. The lace creates perfect, teasing friction against your most sensitive spots. Tawny watches with dark, hungry eyes while one of her own hands disappears between her thighs, circling her swollen clit in the exact same rhythm. The two of you masturbate together like that—eyes locked, breathing synchronized—her soft moans mixing with your embarrassed whimpers.

“Tell me what you have between your legs,” she whispers, pinching her own nipple through the robe.

“I… I have a clitty,” you manage, voice shaking as you rub the lace-covered head in tight little circles.

“Louder, sissy. And don’t stop rubbing.”

“I have a tiny clitty! I’m your little sissy husband with a pathetic button-dick!”

Tawny’s head falls back as she cums hard, thighs trembling. The sight sends you over the edge right after her. Your orgasm is intense but feminine—weak, dribbling spurts that soak into the front of the pink panties rather than shooting anywhere impressive. She praises you through every spurt, calling you her good girl and her perfect clitty-boy.

But she doesn’t let you change. The cum-soaked panties stay on for the rest of the afternoon, the cooling wetness a constant humiliating reminder.

Later that evening she takes it further. She has you strip down to nothing but the messy pink lace and kneel on the bed while she lounges against the headboard, legs spread wide. Her pussy is visibly wet again.

“Lesson time, baby,” she says warmly. “Watch how Mommy touches her clit.”

Tawny demonstrates with slow, sensual movements—two fingers gliding over her slick folds before focusing on her prominent, swollen clit with feather-light circles and occasional up-and-down strokes. “See? Soft. Teasing. Patient. Big cocks get jerked rough. Tiny clitties need love and denial. Now copy me exactly.”

You pull the soaked panties to the side. Your 2.75-inch erection juts out pitifully—thin, flushed, and already leaking again. Tawny guides your hand with hers, teaching you the precise technique: thumb and two fingers making small, loving circles focused almost entirely on the sensitive head and frenulum. The pleasure is overwhelming in its intensity. Every nerve feels raw and electric.

“That’s it… just like that,” she moans, masturbating beside you. “Rub your pretty clitty exactly how I rub mine. Feel how much more sensitive it is because it’s so small? You’ll never fuck like a man again, so you might as well learn to cum like a good little sissy.”

The room fills with the wet sounds of both of you rubbing—her slick pussy and your lace-accentuated clitty. Tawny talks you through it the entire time, her voice thick with lust.

“Imagine wearing this every day. Pretty panties, maybe a little cage soon to keep that clitty tiny and useless. I’ll pick out more clothes for you. Soft things. Feminine things. And every night we’ll rub our clits together like this until you’re addicted to feeling small.”

You’re whimpering openly now, hips twitching as you follow her exact rhythm. The humiliation, the guidance, the constant reminders of your size—it all blends into an unbearable wave of pleasure.

“Tell me again,” she demands, fingers plunging into herself.

“I’m your sissy! I have a tiny clitty! I’ll never satisfy you with it!”

Tawny cries out as another powerful orgasm rips through her. Her approval and the sight of her cumming push you over right after. You squirt another load of thin cum across your fingers and onto the bed, moaning like the sissy she’s turning you into.

Afterward she pulls you into her arms, your cum-soaked panties pressed against her thigh. She kisses your forehead tenderly while her hand idly strokes the messy lace.

“This is only the beginning, baby. Tomorrow we’ll go shopping for more pretty things. And maybe… just maybe… we’ll measure you again while you’re wearing them.”

You lie there spent, embarrassed, and already aching for more—completely hooked on the slow, delicious process of being sissified by your own wife.