As he was carried through the doors, Pat noticed that the groups that had entered the other doors around the room were also returning; like him and the other sons in his group, all of the sissies were being carried in the same position, their mothers holding them up, exposing their
everything
. And, although he could only see so much, Pat realised that he wasn't the only one dwarfed by his mother's behemoth cock; the heavy weapon dangling between his mother's muscular yet feminine thighs made those of the other mothers that he could see, look positively
puny
by comparison.
Belatedly, Pat realised that the room from which they had previously left to enter the Romanesque baths had totally changed; unlike earlier when the ostentatious chamber was empty except for the large doors they were now entering from, there were now twenty-five tables and some strange, what Pat guessed to be, chairs, circling a throne that was simultaneously floating and rotating. On the tables were three items, with only the human-sized collar identifiable to Pat; what the other two objects were, some tiny, pink plastic contraption and a hunk of gleaming, shiny metal, was a mystery.
Reaching what Pat assumed to be their table, his mother stopped, waiting while those yet to find their own area moved around them. While they stood, Julie, to Pat's mortification, was not idle; while keeping him aloft, she swung her hips so that bitch breaker rhythmically slapped his boi-cunt and clitty. Both the son and mother duo, the latter looking over the shoulder of the former, couldn't take their eyes off of the arousing image; her hole-wrecker was literally reinforcing its already evident superiority by
clubbing
his twitching, leaking dicklet. Each meaty
thump
quickly drew the attention of the other mothers who had found their places around them.
'You're one randy bitch, aren't you?' taunted an unfamiliar woman to Pat and Julie's immediate right. The soon-to-be-incesteous duo turned to look at who had spoken. Pat, at this point, was ready to admit that he was ludicrously attracted to girlcock; if such wasn't already apparent to him in the sign of his tiny clitty being rock hard and leaking thin strands of cum, then his immediate reaction when confronted with a beautiful woman was to picture her forcing her long, thick, fat cock forcing its way inside him, should make such clear.
'Randy?' questioned Pat's mother as she continued slowly but surely pummeling his sissyhood into submission with heavy slaps of her fat cock. 'Lustful? Passionate? Fucking none,' she growled, shaking Pat roughly, causing his cocklet to spin like the world's smallest helicopter blade. 'Come even
close
to describing how I've desired this day.' Pat, at this point, was, quite literally, just along for the ride. 'I've dreamt,' she laughed with dark relief. 'About moulding this little sissy into being my perfect, caged, little cocksheathe for fucking years!'
'I can't wait to see it,' their beautiful neighbour replied, voice thick with desire. So great was her lust that she started to unconsciously mimic Julia, gyrating her hips and smacking the sissy in her arms with her massive meat. Despite his heady high, Pat noticed that while their neighbour's length was not as prodigious as his mother's, she still seemed to get the job done; her slow thrusts resulted in her fat girlcock knocking on the entrance to her son's most sacred place, leaving him with a rapturous expression decorating his feminine face.
Eventually, when Pat couldn't be bothered to identify, the two mothers started to move in sexy synchronisation. 'There's nothing quite like breaking a boy, is there?' their neighbour panted. 'A boy expects to fuck, not be fucked, so when you do fuck them, you
take
something from them. You fuck the masculinity right out of them, their trapped clitty leaking it out, drop by fucking drop, onto the floor.' Before the other mother could
accidentally
start fucking her son, they were interrupted by the loud chime of a bell from the direction of the floating and rotating throne that everything and everyone seemed to be arrayed around.
Immediately, Pat noticed the formerly empty throne now had an occupant.
When did she get there? Ah well, it wasn't like I was paying attention anyway!
Pat thought with amusement.
Sitting on the throne was a woman wearing what initially appeared to be a wedding dress with a veil. However, Pat noticed that, like the priestess from outside, the cleavage dipped deep, revealing her massive pale breasts; despite her prodigiously impressive mammaries, they didn't hold Pat's attention captive for long. On the contrary, as soon as Pat saw her puffy pink nipples, he was already looking past them, focusing his gaze on her pelvis, searching for the atypical feature shared by all of these gorgeous goddesses. And sure enough, he found what he was looking for: a thick, fat cock nearly rivalling his mother in size. Besides said impressive dimensions, the only difference Pat could determine between it and the other pale pythons hanging between the legs of the lustful mothers around him was a wide crimson ring of plastic at its base.
The second chime of that unseen bell interrupted Pat from his perusal of the throne's occupant. In the silence that followed, a quick glance around him revealed to Pat that all the mother and son duos had found a table to stand next to. He also noticed that surrounding the group in a circle, with great space between them, were the priestesses from before.
'Mothers,' purred the priestess from the throne above them all, 'you have gathered here today to present your sons as potential sissies for the Sisterhood. For many of you, this will be your first time breaking a boy or even sissifying a son. For others, this ritual will be simply one among many. Regardless of your experience, the laws will be followed. The rules will be obeyed. If you feel unable, or if you have reconsidered your decision to offer your male to the Sisterhood, now is your one and only have to retreat.' To the surprise of no one, everyone stayed.
Despite the distance between them, Pat could see the grin on the sitting priestess's face, as none of the mothers present chose to save their sons from whatever process they were about to undergo. 'Good,' she laughed, her voice tinkling like running water. 'Very good. It's been many years since I last saw sisters as, shall we say...
determined
as all of you. Let us hope,' her voice turned cruel and mocking. 'That your efforts at dipping your wicks aren't thwarted by the male meat you have all chosen to offer. For those of you who somehow don't know, we, the Sisterhood, only accept sissies who cum from their mother's womanhood alone, with no other aid or intervention to hasten their pathetic ejaculate. We still hold to the old teachings: a boy may be nice and tight but he only becomes a Sisterhood sissy if he takes dick right.'
After a brief but pregnant pause, the relined priestess continued. 'Now that the formalities have been dealt with, we shall commence with the initiation, placing your sons on the first step of the path to sissydom. Mothers,' the priestess ordered, her voice no longer cold but dripping with unconcealed desire. 'Position your sons.'
At her prompting, Julia and the other mothers present slid their sons from their grasp into the strange chair positioned next to their table. Pat, his attention now being concentrated on what he was being lowered into, gave it greater scrutiny.
This thing looks like one of those chairs I've seen in videos of beautiful women having their backs and heads massaged.
And, indeed, it was for the most part; it had a comfortable cushioned cut-out in which Pat could rest his face, looking at his feet positioned below, to enable a masseuse easy access to his back and neck, alongside places to lean his arms and legs.
However, he immediately experienced two significant differences between the seat compared to that which he had seen on the internet; first, rather than being built for his comfort, the contraption seemed deliberately constructed to both arch his lower back to emphasise the opening to his boi-pussy as much as possible and give unrestricted access to his dangling clitty and little balls. And secondly, unlike any other similar set-up he had seen, there were thick leather straps, presumably to keep him locked into the redesigned massage chair.
Between what seemed to Pat as one moment and the next, his mother was done securing the last strap that kept his face pressed tightly into the cushioned cut-out; the design of the chair had his neck tilted in such a way that he was just able to make out his unimpressive manhood hanging between his spread legs. Seeing him testing his restraints and finding himself fully secured, unable to move, totally at her mercy, had Julia draping herself over him, whispering into his ear as the other mothers around them finished tying down their sons. 'You look so hot like this my little sissy,' she hissed. 'So fucking hot!'
Despite the
