wittlesissybaby
A Real Man (Custom Caption)
Published: May 24th 2023, 8:59:01 pm
Another one bites the dust. Another chauvinist pig prissified for our pleasure. Another slave for our stables.
It’s almost too easy. Diane and I have gotten the method down to a science.
As lesbians in today’s world, we are constantly bombarded by men who claim they could ‘turn us straight’ after one night with them. As if the only reason we’re lesbians is because we haven’t had a man spasm on top of us for 30 whole seconds yet. They just can’t seem to fathom that we’re just…not attracted to them, or any man for that matter.
Take this guy, for instance. I think his name is Chad, or Hunter, or some other douchey name. Anyway, Diane and I are at the bar enjoying a little date night when he comes up to hit on me. Long story short, he says the same crap every other man says after we tell him we’re not interested, that we're perfectly happy together, on our own.
“You just haven’t been with a real man before,” he says. They always say that.
I want to tell him to fuck off, but Diane puts her hand on mine, giving me the wink. I smirk back, receiving the signal. “Oh yea?" I say, "You think you can show both of us a good time?”
This is the part where they puff out their chest and strut victoriously as they walk us back to our car. I always do my best to not cringe at the pathetic jokes they make, or their pitiful passes at romance.
Chad, or Brad, or whatever his name is, didn’t get far. I was unable to contain my laughter when he pulled down his pants at the house. Did he really think he was going to flip us with that pathetic 4-incher?
Diane always plays the part so well though. Pretending it’s the biggest thing she’s ever seen, that it’s what she’s been missing out on her whole life. Once their ego is stroked, they’ll pretty much do damn near anything at that point.
“Do you mind putting on a dress for us?” Diane asks, “You know, to…ease the transition. It’s easier if you look more like a girl for us ‘lezbos’.”
“Still not really doing it for me,” I say once they're stuffed inside a frilly outfit we just happen to have on hand, “Maybe a little make-up will help…”
Eventually they’re dressed to the nines in their most prissy, sissy outfit, anything to continue their hopes of getting to have a threesome with two beautiful women. They’re too stupid to put together why we would have such a collection of ridiculous outfits. As if we would ever wear something so ostentatious.
They get a bit discouraged once they see themselves in the mirror, when they see what we’ve really done to them. They start to fight it, start to back out, but Diane is one step ahead of them. She grabs them by the crotch at this point. “Where are you going? We were just about to get you in bed…”
Good for her, you wouldn’t catch me pretending to enjoy touching someone’s penis even with a gun to my head. So my job at this point is to convince them they need to be tied up so they don’t “move too much from all the pleasure they’re about to receive.”
It’s the most important moment, the second right before the handcuffs click together, the moment they’re locked tight, and can’t do anything to stop the dominos from falling.
“You're ours now” I hiss in their ear as the cuffs clamp shut.
It’s so easy after that. No matter how much they struggle, they can’t stop what’s about to happen. Diane and I can easily overpower a pathetic sissy man with their hands tied behind their back.
What we do after that tends to vary. Diane likes to pull out the strapons so we can spitroast them and give them the threesome we ‘promised’ them. I like to put their puny little peckers in a pink cage and make them watch me flush the key down the toilet. But the real pièce de résistance is the most embarrassing of them all: the big pink diaper.
Ohhh the way they call us all sorts of names when we show them their new underwear. Some of them yell, some of them threaten us, some of them even cry. It doesn’t really matter, they all end up in diapers eventually. Some of them just accept it, while others crinkle and thrash about. Diane and I just sit back, open a bottle of wine, and enjoy the show.
We use their phone to take pictures and videos. It’s funny, even with all their make-up on, their phone still recognizes them enough to unlock. Kylie here–yes, we’re calling her ‘Kylie’ now–actually had a girlfriend. She texted several times asking where he was. Diane wanted to send her some of the pictures now, but I told her to wait.
Because tomorrow, that’s when the real fun starts. You see, wittle Kylie is going to have some of our friends come over.
“I’m not gay! I’m not gay!” He cries when I tell him what he’ll be doing to the men.
“Ohh Kylie, sure you are!” I tell him, flipping through the pictures I threaten to send to his girlfriend, “You just haven’t been with a real man before!”