Dressed Up and Dressed Down! By THRONE

Dressed Up and Dressed Down!

By THRONE

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

***DEVIN DICKIE NOTE***

All characters are OVER 18 years of AGE! This is a bullying fantasy and not real.  The acts in the following written work are only consensual  sexual choices and fantasy humiliation scenarios.

Bullying is NOT OKAY and If you or someone you know is being bullied, please alert the authorities. 

Dressed Up and Dressed Down!

By THRONE

A devilish young woman picks a weak 18-year-old and sets out to utterly destroy him. She wants to turn him into a mindlessly devoted, celibate sissy and steal all his money.

Dressed Up And Dressed Down

by Throne

This is an unkind story about a heartless young lady who relishes

systematically feminizing and breaking a defenseless young man.  She

also intends to steal his considerable wealth.  It is pure fantasy.  You

have been warned.  

Lawrence Wimbledon was in love.  Or at least, he thought he was.  At

eighteen, with plenty of family money, invested for him by others, he

was financially set for life.  At the same time, he had no practical

experience with the workings of the world.  He was especially deficient

when it came to girls.  The short and slender fellow mooned over them

from a distance.  When he approached one, his shyness reduced him to a

blithering dunce.  That was why, when he met Sasha, only a year older

than himself, he couldn't believe how different she was.  He didn't know

that the cute girl had researched him and that their encounter was

carefully planned.  Lawrence fell and he fell hard.

She would tell him, "What I like about you is that you're so eager to

please me.  That's the one true way to prove your sincerity."

With subtle methods, she would undermine what little ego he possessed.

It sounded like she was concerned but somehow always left him more

insecure than previously.

Sasha would say something like, "You're so lucky that none of the

rougher sorts of boys are around.  I know you'd want to protect me from

them, but that you wouldn't be able to."  After letting that sink in,

she might add, "Why, even a tomboy could push you around.  I wouldn't

want to see that happen."

Along with warping his self-image, she teased him sexually.  The wicked

girl knew how to send visual cues and say suggestive things, both of

which aroused him.  The problem was that she never followed up with any

strong physical contact.  Instead, she would lightly brush her fingers

over his cheek, ruffled his full head of hair, or smooth down his

clothes.  Additionally, she used tricks like asking him to smell her

perfume, touch her hair and say if it was silky enough, or hold some

item of clothing she had bought in front of him, so she could see how it

might look on her.  

In a short time, she had him following her around like a neglected

puppy, starved for any additional scraps of attention she might throw

him.  After he was trapped in her web of manipulation, she took him down

to the next level.  That involved picking his clothes, which took on a

distinctly girlish tone.  When he questioned any of her choices, she

instantly became hurt.  It didn't take much of that to teach him to

never doubt her wisdom.  Then she began making demands on him.  They

were small at first.  He might have to take off her shoes and rub her

feet.  Or she would have him buy her trinkets, which rapidly escalated

into gifting her with expensive items.  

At some point she was able to convince him he should wear lingerie.

Sasha would say, "With your delicate skin, panties are perfect for you."

Or it might be, "I noticed how much you relax when you have a satin

mini-slip on under your silly boy's clothes."  From there, it wasn't far

to, "You really need to dress in more soft clothes that won't make you

try to be one of those macho jerks who I hate so much."  He was pushed

over the line and into dresses.  Those became ever more juvenile, until

he resembled a very young female.  Bows in his lengthening hair and Mary

Jane shoes on his petite feet amplified that image.

She pointed out, "You'll appear ridiculous if you try to strut around

like some musclehead while you're wearing what works for you.  Take

smaller steps, Larry.  And don't keep your wrists so stiff."

He was so smitten with Sasha that he barely noticed the stares and

snickers he was provoking on the street.  When he did become aware of

those reactions, instead of rebelling against the controlling girl, he

became more dependent on her.  He found himself paying her bills and

helping her out with cash.  She was thrilled.  What could be better than

taking over this rich lad and robbing him of his money, masculinity, and

future?

She would drive him to the mall, where he could be seen by large numbers

of people.  Lawrence would stay close to her and avert his eyes from

anyone else.  On occasion she would take his hand and lead him around,

as if he required constant guidance.  When they went out to dine, she

ordered for him.  His diet was adjusted, with less protein and more

empty calories.  Seeing the weakling mince along, obviously in thrall to

the attractive young woman, people would stare and barely try to hide

their amusement.

It was time for him to descend to the third level of the hell she was

fashioning for him.  Sasha started calling her willing victim Sugar

Puff.  The first few times she did it, he started to say something.  It

took only the slightest frown of disapproval from her to prevent him

from actually voicing a complaint.  

She took him to what might be called a bad neighborhood.  They went to a

cheap restaurant.  When he took his first mouthful of food, she

introduced him to the scolding technique she had been eagerly waiting to

unleash on him.

"Sugar Puff," she snapped.  "What are you doing?"  Her sudden anger made

his mind go blank.  Upsetting Sasha was unthinkable.  She continued, "Is

that how you eat?  Loading up your fork, shoving it into your mouth, and

chewing like a cow with a mouthful of cud? UGH!  Are you some sort of

crude slob?  Have you been pretending to be something other than what

you really are all this time?  Are you now going to reveal your true

self and embarrass me in public?"  He got so nerve-wracked that he

couldn't chew.  A bit of food fell from his mouth.  That gave her an

excuse to ramp up her attack.  "You must be a brainless, pathetic, poor

excuse for a real boyfriend.  I wanted us to be together forever but now

you repulse me.  All you are is a pitiable, useless, dishonest little

monster."

The other patrons were entertained by her display.  A swarthy young guy

in a tank top and cargo shorts came to their table.  He sneered down at

Lawrence, who nearly fainted from stress.  

The thug asked Sasha, "Is this jerk screwing with you?  Want me to give

him some schooling?"

"Oh, thank you," she gushed, to Lawrence's horror.  

Sasha stood and took the guy's hand.  She pressed herself against him.

Lawrence was jolted by a rush of jealousy.  In his mind, so well trained

by then, he blamed himself for pushing the girl he worshipped into the

arms of someone else.  A violent shudder ran through the small guy in a

dress.  When he tried to say something, Sasha allowed him to get out a

few disjointed syllables.

That was when she said, "Don't try to pick a fight, Sugar Puff.  You've

already made enough of a scene.  Please keep your voice down.  In fact,

you need to speak quietly and modulate your tone not just now but all

the time."  She put her arms around the stranger.  "Thank goodness

there's someone to defend me against you."

The tough suggested, "You want to see my car?"

"I do need to get away from Sugar here, at least long enough to calm

down.  And maybe being left alone for a while will give him time to

think about his terrible attitude."

"Sure," the guy said.  "Whatever."

Sasha wanted to give Lawrence more to fret over and another round of

upbraiding would be the ideal way to do that.  She put on a face that

reflected hurt and disappointment.  "I hope you're happy now, Puffy.

You've ruined a perfectly lovely evening.  I see how you can be a

despicable bully toward me.  Look at you.  So self-centered.  Thinking

you own the world.  Driving me away when I'm trying to get nearer.

Think about your wretched misbehavior, your pettiness, and the fact that

I'm close to tears now."

She clung to the ruffian.  Sasha made sure to get his name while they

were still in front of Lawrence.  The dusky one was called Stick.  She

guessed why that was and made a point to ask him before they departed.  

"You know," he said with lewd pride.  Stick patted his crotch and

explained, "Because I got a big one."

With that final blow to Lawrence, whose penis was laughably tiny, Sasha

and her new acqaintance left the diner.  As she went, unseen by him, she

gave their server a theatrical wink.  The waitress answered with a nod

of understanding.  The sissy sat there in stunned disbelief.  What had

he done?  Would she leave him there?  Was the love of his life dumping

him?  He was close to a breakdown.  

Sasha, meanwhile, thanked Stick for stepping in.  She said, "I've been

having fun turning that idiot into a total pansy.  To be honest,

wrecking him has gotten me incredibly hot.  How near is that car of

yours?  I need some special treatment -- Stick."

He gave her a crooked smile.  "Right in that vacant lot over there.  I

can fix you right up."

They got into his vehicle and did the backseat boogie.  It was animated

and sweaty.  She didn't care if her hair was mussed and her clothes

disarranged.  Sasha wanted to look well-used when she went back to

Lawrence.  Let the twerp witness what a real man had done to her.

Naturally, she intended to make him believe it was somehow his fault.

This supposed failure on his part would be used to drive him even lower.

She came back and sat across from him.  

"Now you've really gone and done it," she accused.

He stammered, "I'm so sorry.  I didn't mean to..."

"Do you understand how serious this is?"

"Yes.  The waitress even said something."

Sasha made a mental note to leave that girl a walloping big tip.  It

would be with Lawrence's money, naturally.  She resumed her tirade with,

"You didn't even say anything when that brute practically dragged me out

of here."

"What?"  She had flipped the script on him.  He was more mixed up than

ever.

While he was still mentally and emotionally off balance, she raked him

over the coals.  "Anything could have happened to me.  You are nothing

but a weak-willed, cowardly, simpering failure, Sugar Puff.  This might

be our last night as boyfriend and girlfriend."

"No, no, no," he whimpered, slipping into mental freefall.  "Please

don't leave me.  I'll do anything you say.  Everything you want."

"Well..."  She crossed her arms under her bust, elevated her chin, and

looked down her nose at him.  "I would have to require certain signs of

good faith from you.  They wouldn't be negotiable."  To gain some extra

insurance, she included, "And there would have to be absolutely no

backtalk from you.  Not one single word."

"I promise.  I swear."  He blinked back tears.

Lawrence was so cornered at that moment that it sent her decadent lust

higher and higher.  She wished she could return to Stick's car for more

of his primitive but effective treatment.  With that option unavailable,

she could think of the long term and seal her deal with Lawrence quickly

and finally.  

"If you really mean it, I'll give you one last chance."

"Thank you, Sasha.  You'll never regret this."

"We'll see about that.  And until this matter is settled, you need to

call me Mistress.  Is that understood?"  Her tone brooked no

disagreement.

"Yes, Sasha.  I mean, Mistress."  Lawrence kept his voice wispy.  He

fluttered his hands.  His lips quivered.

"Very well," she told him, maintaining her rejecting tone.  

Sasha paid with his money and then drove him to her place.  He had never

been there before.  What should have been a happy occasion became

several hours of shame.  She made him strip off his buckled shoes, ankle

socks, dress and panties.  The big bow stayed in his hair.  She liked

the image of him nude except for that.  His comically small male parts

added to her pleasure.  But there was more to be done.

"First," she intoned, "I have to get rid of your body's hair.  There's

almost none of it, since you barely qualify as a male, but I don't want

you getting the mistaken idea that you're some sort of macho type and

trying to take advantage of me.  That's why I'm going to use a hair

removal device I have for myself to get rid of every bit of it."

She took her time, to prolong his ordeal.  He was visibly shaken by

having to be fully undressed in front of her.  His dimly defined dreams

of someday having a sexual relationship with her were dashed by her

concern that he might try to force himself on her.  Even though that

possibility was nonexistent to Sasha, she relished making him think he

had prompted a fear of it in her.  After he was denuded of every hair,

she stood back to admire her work.  Later she would reveal that the

laser tool she had used had caused the change to be permanent.  

The next step was one she had been anticipating with secret glee since

the beginning.  The devilish girl went and got an icepack.  She also

brought with her a device about the size of a peanut.  First, she used

the refrigerated plastic item to reduce his penis to even less than it's

normally miniscule dimensions.  Then she slipped a ring around the base

of his now hairless scrotum.  Finally, she fitted the cage portion over

his flaccid dick, compressing it to almost nothing.  When she locked the

two sections together, her heart soared.  A bride on her wedding day

couldn't have been happier than Sasha was right then.  

"There," she said triumphantly.  "Now I won't have to worry about you

doing anything improper while we're in bed together every night."

"We...?  Us...?"  He couldn't comprehend what she had just said.

"Of course.  It would be wrong to leave you alone.  As unstable as you

are, I'll have to provide constant monitoring, 24/7, including

overseeing all of your finances.  Correct?"

Without thinking about the implications of that final phrase she had

slipped in, he agreed.  All that was on his mind was the news that they

would somehow be living together.  After all the trouble that he'd put

her through, Sasha was forgiving him.  At the same time, he knew that

his uncompromised obedience would be needed if he wanted this heavenly

development to go on.  Lawrence was more than willing to do whatever it

took, so inextricably was he entwined in her net.

That first night in bed was sweet torture for him.  He was close enough

to feel the warmth radiating from her divine body.  He could smell her

mild perfume and even the scent of her hair.  His trapped member

attempted to erect but was stymied by that pecker prison.  His miniature

balls throbbed.  He didn't care.  What did anything else matter if he

could be with his goddess, her in a sheer nighty and him wearing pink

pajama top and bottom of satin?

The very next day, Sasha used cosmetics on Lawrence.  She also signed

herself up for college courses.  She would need more knowledge to handle

the incredible fortune that was going to be siphoned away from him and

redirected to her.  She already had it draining but wouldn't be fully

satisfied until it was entirely hers.  She additonally got Lawrence into

several courses.  They were low-credit ones from the institution's non-

academic program for women who wished to either marry or work in

unchallenging areas.  They included sewing, decorating, and fashion

coordination.  He meekly asked Sasha if she wanted him to also take

cooking, but she patiently indicated that would be too difficult for

him.  He was so firmly under her thumb that he didn't object.  To do

that wasn't even conceivable to him.  

Lawrence was quite a sight as he walked on campus or sat in the quad

with his mooning gaze directed toward whichever building his love was

attending a class in.  Students couldn't believe they were seeing that

short guy always attired like a little girl, who swished when he walked,

talked as if he was prepubescent, and displayed the body language of

someone doing a meanspirited imitation of an effeminate homosexual.  His

behavior was so extreme that there was zero sympathy for him.  Even gay

students were put off by the teen, though several jocks took more than

one look at his pouty lipsticked mouth.  He was simultaneously insulated

by his focus on Sasha, and yet still in touch with the real world enough

to be deeply shamed.  

The remorseless girl didn't ease up on her prey.  Instead, she

intensified her efforts.  She constantly reminded him of what a failure

he was.  Her tongue-lashings were merciless.  

"Why can't you do better in your classes, you simpleton?  Don't you have

enough intelligence to sew two pieces of clothe together?"

"I get d... distracted," he said, barely audible.  She now had him

pronouncing 'S' sounds like 'th'.  "All I can th... think about is..."

"I know.  Your mind is full of me.  That's right.  Blame Sasha, who does

so much to help and protect you.  You want to make your lack of

accomplishments my fault.  Don't try that again.  I'm tired of such a

cheap trick.  Why do I have to be burdened with a lisping, stuttering,

prancing clown who's less concerned with me than with flirting with

every jock on campus?"

"But I'm n... not," he wailed.  "I don't want those big boys touching

me."

She shook her head.  "I can't tell who your lies are more meant for, me

or yourself.  Be honest, Sugar Puff.  You make eyes at all those locker

room lotharios, especially the football team members."

"I d... don't.  I mean, I don't think I do," he sniveled.  "It's just...

just..."

"It's not fair to me, that's what it is.  I have a heavy class load.

You're the one taking courses for birdbrains and in danger of failing

them."

She drew back her hand, as if to slap him across the face.  He flinched.

Then she slowly lowered her arm.  That brief pantomime made Lawrence

think she had relented out of consideration for him.  He was

speechlessly grateful.  The boob even sank to his knees.  He hugged her

lower legs.  She allowed it just long enough for him to have some

contact.  That made her imagine his puny pecker trying to stiffen inside

the unbreakable chastity.  Sasha was soaking through the gusset of her

panties.  She knew he could smell her sexual juices, even if only

without being aware of it.  

After he'd had enough touching to leave him painfully frustrated, she

barked at him, "What are you doing down there, you puerile pervert?

Sick freak.  Kinky creep.  How dare you drool over my legs.  Thank

goodness I put that cock lock on you.  From now on, every time your

pitiable prick tries to get hard in it, you're required to thank me for

regulating your runaway sex drive."

"Yes, Mistress.  Thank you, Mistress."  Lawrence wept.

Sasha planted one foot in the middle of his narrow chest and pushed him

over backward.  She left him like that, sprawled in an undignified pose,

the hem of his dress up, as she turned on her heel and left him alone.

He thought she was going because he was so annoying.  In reality, she

left to go and make use of a new sex toy she had just acquired, a long

girthy dildo she called Big Bang.  A few orgasms from that would bring

her back to Earth, so she could think clearly and subject the target of

her sadistic impulses to more manipulation and abuse.

Before the middle of the semester, Sasha had attracted plenty of

desirable guys.  She settled on one named Linc, who was there on a

basketball scholarship.  She had him come to her off-campus apartment so

Lawrence could experience extreme pangs of jealousy.  He knew he had no

way to compete.  Instead, he tried to please Linc, with the twisted

thought that he would indirectly be pleasing Sasha.  The tall young man

viewed Lawrence with scorn.  He openly disrespected him, which Sasha

coaxed him to do more of.  Worst for the sissy, Sasha would take Linc

into the bedroom, leaving the guy she lived with out in the hall, on his

knees, to be handy 'in case we need anything'.  He has to listen to

their loud and seemingly endless lovemaking.  Even as naive as he was,

he understood what was happening.  It did irreparable damage to his

psyche.  When Linc stayed over, Lawrence was allowed to sleep by the

bed, curled up on a thin narrow mattress meant to go on a cot.  He was

given Sasha's discarded panties to clutch and press against his face.

Were there limits to how utterly she could break him?  His insecurities

had been exaggerated to gigantic proportions.  He was sometimes reduced

to a dithering imbecile.  Sasha considered that, beyond a certain point,

she might be repeating herself, or merely driving the lessons she had

already taught deeper but accomplishing no new damage.  The heartless

bitch had to admit that she might be near the end of a journey that had

brought her incomparable joy, at the same time it crushed an innocent

and left him a hopeless pansy with no coping skills.  As much as she

would like to drag his misery out indefinitely, there would come a time

when her great experiment was over.  Besides, she had made the right

arrangements to insure that he would never again see a penny of his once

considerable wealth.

What Sasha decided was that she shouldn't be greedy.  Someone else could

get their sick kicks out of inflicting new cruelties on Lawrence.  They

might fixate him on some obsession, like a fetish for shoes and boots.

Or take him further along the sissy road and make him have sex with men.

So many tempting possibilities.  

Her final decision was to let him finish the school year.  She would

make sure he flunked all his courses, to deny him any confidence he

might have gained from passing even one.  There were those on the Dark

Web who sought someone like Lawrence, already broken but still capable

of being humiliated and feeling shame.  She located a spoiled rich girl,

tyrannical and possibly psycho, who was hungry for a victim to move in

with her and mistreat.  Yes, that was an appropriate fate for Lawrence

or, more accurately, for Sugar Puff.  After all, Lawrence was almost

gone and would soon be lost forever.