International Sissies Day

The story is a purely fictional account of a young guy working in Europe in the modern era who steals the panties of an angelic looking woman who extracts revenge under the most potentially humiliating circumstances. All characters and names are entirely fictional and do not relate to any real persons.

***

I couldn't find reliable well-paid work in England and so when a friend told me there was plenty of better-paid work available in Germany I decided to go and work there. I was lucky to find temporary accommodation in a municipal block of flats that served as halls of residence for students. I had a room on the ground floor which I shared with eleven other students, male and female.

Six rooms were arranged along either side of two corridors which led to a central shared kitchen and a living room with television and sofas. Opposite the communal areas, one to each corridor was a utility room with toilets and shower cubicles and one of these contained the single washing machine used by all of the students.

The room I rented was available for a few weeks only while a student was away however as there was almost always someone absent I was able to stay in the flat and hop from vacant room to room every few months.

By coincidence the first night I was there, a Friday, the students were having a party and I met everyone that night and was made very welcome by all. The majority of the students were guys but there were three women also, two of whom were very pleasant but not much to look at, the third, however, Woudje, a Dutch women was utterly divine.

Woudje came from a village just across the border near Arnhem and her boyfriend, Karl, a softly spoken German guy was from a village just across the border in Germany. Their families had lived close to the border so that they had been neighbours and were childhood sweethearts. The two were fluent in both German and Dutch.

Woudje was a very rare beauty, an angel with all the appropriate colouring. She was about five feet six inches tall and looked like a perfect 36-24-36. I imagined a C cup would suit her medium-sized breasts. Her hair was flaxen and virtually colourless and she always wore it down the length of her perfectly proportioned back in a single long plait.

She was sweet, attentive and enthusiastic towards people while being coy and innocent and enchanting. Whenever she smiled her succulent lips closed in a rather disordered fashion that demanded attention. This endearing peculiarity left a man wanting to rearrange those ragged lips by slipping his tongue between them.

Her innocent demeanour was emphasised by the pinafore dresses she wore when at the apartment. She rarely wore hose at home and her petite and naked feet were exposed by her flat narrow strapped sandals.

The pale flesh of her legs was unshaven, however, the fine nature and translucence of her body hair lent itself to her air of elegant feminine grace. I had to wonder what her cunt would look like with such translucent body hair, I was sure it would be heavenly.

Alfons one of the guys living there with whom I shared musical interests and who was also a veterinary student told me that Woudje was researching the influence of pets as an aid to patients convalescence for her M.Sc and the academic hospital had provided her with the funds and laboratory space.

That made me wonder how Woudje looked in her white lab coat and if she wore it directly above her underwear to keep cool in Summertime. I longed to see Woudje dressed so and be able to see the outline of her knickers underneath, something to fuel my masturbatory fantasies that included her whenever I went to bed at night.

She was a delight to have around and I'm sure every guy there enjoyed her presence. I was amused to imagine the coincidence that must have occurred at night-fall when seven guys went to bed and thought of how Woudje had dressed that day. Meanwhile, her boyfriend had enjoyed the spectacle of her removing that clothing and was probably giving her one, how could he resist. We were all so young and horny that for one in the bush seven had it in their hand.

I always was obsessive about women's knickers and with my girlfriend left behind in England, I relied on this fetish to fuel my eager jerk-off sessions and express my libido.

I was frustrated that I never saw a thread of Woudje's laundry hanging in the utility rooms, however all that changed one unforgettable day.

Woudje and her bloke had been away visiting their parents on the border for Woudje's birthday. Both the pair had good relations with their parents, they made solid families and it showed in their educated and polite, respectful manners.

A few days later I went to the utility room and the first thing I saw was a clothes drying rack and one entire side of it was occupied with white cotton bikini panties. There were fifteen or so pairs arranged in an orderly manner, the same number hung, perhaps three pairs to each horizontal rail with a clothespin at either side of the waistband.

They blew my mind and for some reason, I knew just to whom they belonged, Woudje.

The style of every pair of the sexy panties was identical except for the luxurious, complex and bespoke lace panels sitting below the waistband of each pair of those cock-stiffening naughties.

My brain drained of anything but the certainty that I had to play with these horny knickers but being arranged in such a neat and orderly manner made it clear that any single pair would be missed immediately.

But to have a pair of Woudje's knickers was simply irresistible. I ended up with two laundered pairs from two separate sorties. I remember the mess that I made of them. They were crusty and covered in multiple pale yellow stains. Two pairs are the minimum to employ when enjoying a wank, one to introduce to your tackle while the other one would hang from my mouth while I muttered Woudje's name.

It was a cert that Woudje had noticed that she had a pair of her knickers missing after my first raid and I guess in retrospect that the next time she put them out to dry she would have been on red-alert looking for the culprit.

I was the last to arrive at the accommodation so I anticipated I would be considered a likely candidate, particularly if she had not been a victim previously. Woudje was bold enough to carry out her own enquiries so one day when I went to the utility room and with her boyfriend as support, she addressed me directly.

There I was with this angel looking me straight in the eyes and without farther a do she said,

'I have lost two pairs of my new knickers, did you steal them, Victor?'

I thought I dealt with my responding lie quite well and I remember Karl's staring eyes from where he stood behind Woudje's geometric shoulder. I guess I looked them both in the eye as long as I thought it took to clear my name.

Woudje had continued to tell me that they were her birthday present from her parents and were very expensive and she finished her oration with a disapproving look. I hadn't convinced her but she had to leave it there, she could hardly make an allegation without any real evidence. Her lips were clamped in a rare disgruntled manner.

I dare not repeat the deed. As the most recent arrival, I would be the prime suspect. The fact that I halted my sordid robbery after her direct questioning and if she suffered no more loss, would further implicate me. I often wondered how she and her bloke both came to be by the drying rack that day when I entered the utility room.

Woudje and Karl were all loved up and they shared his room, Woudje's own room was vacant and located in the other corridor.

I loved that I possessed two pairs of her gorgeous white cotton knickers and would tease myself to climax with them every night catching my mess in them whilst imagining her jerking me with them and encouraging me to fill them with my salty load.

How I would have loved to have a chance to look through all her drawers and discover the entire collection of her underwear. I knew there was only one avenue left to me so I was busy making plans to get into Woudje's vacant room just in case there was any of her underwear left there. I had to wait for an opportunity and at the same time, I knew I should allow some time to pass by before I dared pinch any more of Woudje's sexy stuff.

Like every guy who had seen her recently acquired and exclusively white coloured panties drying in the utility room I had been gifted the certainty and the masturbatory fervour that under her pinafore dresses her adorable pale-skinned pubis would be covered with delicate white embroidered gaiety. How I would have loved to lap at her flaxen minge through such dainty lace.

***

I was informed that my temporary employment in a warehouse was to terminate at Christmas so I had bought a ticket for the ferry and would spend time with my girlfriend in England. We had good times together and she had missed having her toes pampered and the rest. I never totally came clean with her about my fetishes but I didn't feel guilty about what I did without her. In fact, shooting my muck into Woudje's panties pretty much guaranteed that there was no need for me to stray farther.

After I had returned to Germany it was through Woudje that I found a job at the same academic hospital where she worked.

The first time I greeted her after some weeks in England she was very warm and interested as ever in her delightful coy way.

'Oh, by the way, I know that they are desperate for kitchen porters at the hospital right at this time. Perhaps you need to find work.'

'Absolutely. Great tip,' I replied.

I quickly secured a job starting the following week as a dishwasher in the main kitchens which fed the entire staff and patients which numbered at least fifteen hundred mouths.

The time was ripe for checking out Woudje's vacant room. My original crimes were months behind me and I was keen to have something more of hers and so one day that week when Woudje had gone to work and I had seen Karl drive away I went to her vacated room. True to form the door was unlocked and my heart began to pound and my legs went weak in anticipation of what I might find.

The room was bare and lifeless and I checked the drawers in vain but when I opened the wardrobe and on a shelf, at head height, there was a pair of lonely red cotton knickers and I had them away in an instant and fled back to my room with them in my pocket shaking with the adrenalin rush the find had caused.

I reckon they were a size six, a really tiny bikini in style and girly to the extent of the usual scalloped hems, and a bow centrally located on the waistband. I reckoned she might have had them for some time because her white lacy knickers were a size eight. Maybe they had been left there disregarded because her womanly hips were expanding as she reached her full womanhood.

I knew they would fit a treat over my head and they were so abandoned and forlorn that they had evaded the washing machine and had a dried trail of her manna in the gusset and not only that a translucent curled pubic hair glued to it that confirmed that her minge was just as I had imagined.

Each time I would interact with Woudje in the communal areas I was able to enjoy the thought, right in her face, that I possessed a pair of her stinky scanties that were as she had kicked them off her feet, sticky with her cunny cream.

'You want me to fuck you while I sniff the gusset of your stinky red knickers, you want to toss me off into your naughty knickers,' were two of the filthy thoughts that I enjoyed while I made some complimentary remark to her when she would come over in her particularly coy manner causing her cheeks to flush rosy red.

***

The following week I began work at the hospital kitchen. It was spotless and very well equipped with state of the art in-line dishwashers fed by conveyors, one for pans and one for crockery and cutlery. Each day I was given freshly laundered, pressed uniforms comprising white cotton double-breasted jacket with trousers to match and a white linen apron.

I was able to eat lunch with all the other hospital staff in a large cafeteria up a flight of stairs. There I was able to select from a huge variety of food items to create any kind of meal and pay with a bunch of pre-paid tokens. Hundreds of people moved through the place and that included loads of smartly uniformed female staff. Doctors, nurses, administrators and casual workers.

My uniform was quite robust but the medical uniforms were much lighter, less obscure and more revealing. It was always worth keeping an eye open for a sexy woman showing the shadow of veiled knickers or the hems of such garments embossed in their thin tunics as they bent to take a seat at one of the cafeteria tables.

Their legs were always visible and I remember the intense sense of excitement whenever I spied one of them clearly showing some sexy styled, trivial sized knickers covering their botties beneath their clothing. I loved lunchtime.

Footwear was totalitarian, everyone at the hospital wore wooden-soled clogs with a glove of a white leather upper that enclosed the front part of the foot from ankle to toes. In Winter they wore traditional thick woollen grey socks and in Summer the women's little naked toes would hang down towards a fallen clog as they sat and we ate and I ogled from another table. I occasionally saw Woudje accompanied by colleagues eating lunch there.

One day when I arrived home mid-afternoon after an early shift and entered my room I was stupefied to see that there was a pile of white trousers stacked on my bed. I counted seven pairs in all. Taking the uppermost pair from the pile I found they were identical to my work trousers and when I held them at my waist I discovered that they were the correct length. Moreover, they had a lining, sewn in underpants tacked at three points in the waistband.

There was something odd, the undergarment didn't have a pee-hole and when I unzipped the trouser fly I realised the undergarment was a pair of canary yellow knickers and furthermore they had printed upon both the front and back panels, in an elegant hand-written style, 'Royal Wednesday'. I inspected all the other pairs of trousers and each had coloured bikini panties within tacked at three points with white cotton to match the trousers.

The pair of trousers at the bottom of the pile were lined with a pair of pale pink panties with coloured hems and in the same shade of blue, the script across the front panel read, 'Romantic Friday'. A folded piece of paper fell out, a page from a student notepad. It read,

'Dear panty pervert, Victor,

apart from the sexy panties, I was given a sewing machine for my birthday so I thought I'd give it a try. Wednesday tomorrow, so you'll need the ones on the top of the pile, assuming you're working that is. I altered them all just for you. I insist you always wear the appropriate pair for work, so if you're working Thursday you'll need to wear the trousers with the red panties, I think you like red panties, don't you?

I know you took my smelly red knickers away from my very empty room. Didn't you think it a little strange that the only item in my room was a pair of my dirty knickers? I knew you would be going there, why did it take you so long?

If you like wearing knickers so much I expect you to wear knickers at work and I insist you follow my instructions. Be a good panty-boy. There are a lot of women at the hospital who would love to know there's a sissy boy in the kitchen.

I hope you don't mind that I went into your room but as you know the doors aren't locked here despite the occasional perverse intrusion.

By the way, I sorted the mail the other day, your girlfriend kindly wrote her address on the back of the envelope she sent to you, does she know about your enjoyment of other girl's knickers?'

The note wasn't signed but of course, I knew who had written it and Woudje was threatening to contact my girlfriend if I didn't follow her demands.

She had me hook, line, and knickered.

***

I didn't have to work that Wednesday but on the Thursday I had to so I packed the appropriate work trousers into my rucksack so that I could swap them for those issued daily to me in the safety of the staff toilet cubicle when I arrived at work. The dishwashing work I did there was always manic and I forgot all about the fact that my tackle was contained in a pair of silly, red, girly knickers with their absurd logo script, 'Live for Thursday', that Woudje had elected that I should wear. That is, I forgot until it was time for lunch.

As soon as I began to queue for service I began to feel uneasy. I was surrounded by numerous women hospital staff and one of Woudje's colleagues in the know might be talking about me and pointing me out to others. The very experience of any of them looking at me made me wonder if they were onto my predicament, checking me out.

How long would it be before every woman in the hospital knew? Even if Woudje only told a couple of colleagues the news would spread like wildfire.

I ate my lunch quickly feeling disgraced. I was thinking that I would have to hang my sissified work trousers to dry in my own room, there was no way I could dry them in the shared utility rooms. I would need to buy a dehumidifier to assist with drying my laundry.

I was at the bottom of the stair in the cafeteria when I decided to peruse the notice board, maybe there would be a dehumidifier for sale second hand. The notices were expansive and always heavily populated with numerous offerings. Accommodation, items wanted and for sale, educational and therapeutic courses and work sought and offered. I began searching myopically at the board offering items for sale and then my attention was drawn to a colourful poster and my heart stopped.

I found myself staring at an advertisement for the very knickers Woudje had stitched into my work trousers. Across the top in handwritten pencil was scrawled the word 'Unisex', a sick joke as far as I was concerned. The printed sheet must have been included by Woudje, was it she or another female in the know that had defaced it.

I read the advertisement and despite my predicament my cock had stiffened.

'Presented in a box of 8 - one pair for every day of the week plus a spare 'fun day' - these briefs are designed for women by women'.

More pencil scrawl and an inclusion below the line admitted more text, so it read, '...designed for women and sissies by women.'

I read further.

'It's what's underneath that counts.' There was a web site address and I learned that the entire set of the knickers cost a mere forty euros including postage and packing.

Seven pairs of colourful panties with accompanying logos were presented. The colour of the eighth spare pair, the 'fun day' panties remained a mystery. My filthy mind's fantasy was that Woudje had kept them for herself and would use them to seduce me. I wished they would be crotchless and I could shaft her without the need to drag her gusset aside.

'You wish,' I imagined she might say. I longed that she would be a mucky cow.

By the end of the following working week, a Sunday, I was convinced that every woman in the cafeteria knew I was wearing girly knickers. That day and wearing a pair of deep pink panties with the script, 'Sweet Sunday' printed on them I heard a lunch token drop behind me whilst I queued for lunch and it bounced and landed in the turn-up of my trousers.

Looking around a dark-haired nurse was bent from the waist presenting me with a clear view of VPL, and the profligate knowledge that her skimpy knickers were black beneath her tunic. When she had extracted her lunch token from its resting place she straightened up and I found myself looking at a really horny brunette sweetie who apologised profusely while being quite amused for fingering my turn-up.