Pat's Pounding

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

many

different things Par could ask a question about, he decided to address the most recent unknown. 'What's a sissy?' he gasped, lust, desire and other foreign feelings leaving him short of breath.

'Hmm,' his mother hummed as she lightly bit his ear and rhythmically squeezed the tip of his leaking clitty with her forefinger and thumb, her hand having ventured between his legs as soon as he was bound into place. 'What's a sissy? It's what you're soon going to be.'

'But

what

is it?' Pat questioned again, his voice tight with frustration from her two-fold avoidance; she wouldn't answer his question, and she wouldn't touch his cocklet with anything more gratifying than a tickle.

'I would've expected my smart boy to have clued in by now,' Julia replied, voice heavy with mock disappointment. 'The potion must have done quite a number on you, so I guess I'll have to be blunt. A sissy is a boy who cums from his caged little clitty every time he gets his boi-pussy stuffed with girlcock.' When she mentioned her anatomical anomaly, she placed its massive head at the entrance to his boi-cunt, leaving it there, softly kissing his opening.

'Y-you're going to put...

that

in me. There's no way it'll fit!'

'You aren't the first today to think my little lady is too big to fit into your little boi-pussy,' Julia admitted. 'But don't worry, I'm going to

make

it fit. And, sure, it might hurt a bit at first, but you'll bear with it. I know you will. Because if you don't...,' she trailed off threateningly. 'Well, we don't need to get into that. Anyway, I'm sure you'll love it. I mean, you've been leaking like crazy from your clitty ever since I stuck my finger in your delicious, little boi-cunt. Imagine then, how much this,' at that, she lightly pushed her mushroom tip against his clenched entrance. 'Will feel better

all

the way deep in your insides.'

With that ominous yet potentially pleasurable promise, she stood straight again, her hands on her hips. However, she did not remove the tip of her sissy-maker from between Pat's pale, luscious cheeks; after all, Julia reckoned, it wouldn't do for him to forget what was coming for him.

'Now that your soon-to-be-sissies are strapped in, we can get this show on the road,' the sitting priestess announced. After a brief pause, the purpose of which Pat supposed was to give the mothers one final chance to savour the rewards of their patience, the priestess, in unison with her robe-clad sisters surrounding the group of mothers and sons, started to chant.

'We, anointed sisters of the Sisterhood, witness to this offering. Ye mothers, you offer your sons to be sissies of the Sisterhood. Doth thou know what this entails?'

'Yes,' answered the mothers as one, all serious and solemn, a stark contrast to their earlier rambunctiousness.

'We anointed sisters witness your understanding. As it was before, and by the grace of the Goddess, it will always be, this ceremony heralds the transformation of your sons into sissies. As we are conduits for the gaze of our mighty Goddess, creator of our race, we will witness this transfiguration. Let the first step of the sacred process begin. Mothers, insert into your sons the butt plug, that tangible expression of your conquering and permanent ownership of his boi-pussy.'

Together, the mothers lifted from the table in front of the chairs their sons were strapped in, the long but narrow piece of metal Pat had seen before, presenting it to their son's faces. 'Lick this,' Julia, unseen by Pat due to her position behind him, ordered sternly.

Seemingly predicting his reluctance, Julia appeared in Pat's limited line of vision, squatting parallel to the floor, butt plug still in hand. Despite the immediacy of his predicament, Pat couldn't help staring at his mother's long, fat girl cock as it lazily swung like a pendulum between her thighs, touching the floor and leaving bright streaks of pre-cum.

'Lick. This. Now!' Pat's mother ordered once more, her expression thunderous. Remembering her promise of pain for any signs of non-compliance from earlier, he reluctantly opened his mouth before starting to gingerly lick the cold, cool metal.

'Good sissy,' she praised, tone satisfied. 'Very good. And, despite how unpleasant you might find this task now, believe me, this'll save you a world of pain later when I make you my cocksheethe.' Deciding to trust her, as he didn't have much of a choice either way, Pat continued his task until he had coated the entire object with his saliva. Once he was done, Julia pressed the plug against the base of his groin, next to his straining clitty, using the comparison to emphasise how he was dwarfed by it.

'Look how positively

teeny

your little clitty is,' she cooed, her mockery causing Pat's boi-pussy to twitch. Then, moving slowly to give Pat time to understand and simmer in humiliation, she moved the slick butt plug next to her gargantuan girldick; next to her womanhood, the butt plug that had dwarfed his little clitty, was, in turn, totally outsized by her.

'It's actually a joke, isn't it?' she mused. 'That this little thing is somehow supposed to get you ready to take

this

.' So saying, she shook her third leg to emphasise the absolutely

ludicrous

size difference; even her hand, so much bigger than Pat's, couldn't wrap around it. 'Ah, well, better something little,' as she described its diminutive size, she made repeated glances between it and Pat's cocklet, emphasising his tinyness. 'Than nothing at all.'

Apparently done for the moment humiliating her son, Julia moved out of his line of vision behind him. Pat, dithering about whether he wanted to go through with this or refuse and accept the no doubt horrible punishment his mother had devised for such an eventuality, failed to anticipate his mother's lack of patience. With a heavy slap to his backside, Julia started to push the lubed-up butt plug into him with gentle but unrelenting force. 'I've been told it helps if you push out while I push in,' she commented as if forcing nearly six inches of metal into her son's backside using his spit as lube was a typical experience shared between mothers and sons.

For Pat, the whole experience was as far from mundane as possible, as his opening fought a titanic struggle against the wide would-be intruder.

'Aw, I'm sure it's difficult, honey, but you need to let it in!' Julia commiserated, voice dripping with faux sympathy.

Before Pat could gather breath to respond, his entrance, unable to hold against such a determined onslaught, started to give and open. Feeling the first wide inch enter him, Pat gave voice to his only thought.

'FUUUUUuuuuccck!'