Dom’s Sissies Pt. 11: The Naming Ceremony (Part Two)

For Corey and Liam, most of the school day passed in a blur because, as the evening drew nearer, both of them grew more and more occupied with whatever the naming ceremony would entail, and less focused on the day itself. It felt as though there was a strange sort of electricity in the air. Beginners, intermediates, and finished sissies all seemed to share the same feverish excitement about the evening as it drew nearer.

"Problem is," Max told them during their first break, "every naming ceremony is different. They kinda think up something new and humiliating every time. Mine was in August and mermaid-themed so everybody could 'cool down.' So we can't really predict what's gonna happen for you."

"Mine was like a prom dance," Sam, who had received the name Sophia at that "prom dance," threw in.

For Liam, knowing that such a large and public humiliation was looming caused his little pink plastic chastity cage, which they were all made to wear, to feel tighter than ever. It wasn't painful exactly, but like a constant, itchy weight beneath his ruffled panties and skirt. It all made him fidget despite himself. So, more than once, his hand slipped under his skirt to grab and adjust the cage. It was a crude and so distinctly unsissy-like motion that Corey couldn't help but laugh when he spotted it once.

"The fuck are you laughing at?" Liam had snapped back at him.

But Corey himself wasn't doing much better. Much of his nervousness, however, found an outlet in passive daydreaming to stop thinking about his current situation, and stomachaches when he was pulled back into his reality. More than once, he told himself, "I should be figuring out a plan," but it was just so much easier to ignore his situation and revel in pleasant memories and scenarios he made up.

By the time the school day finally ended at 6 p.m. after dinner, Corey had been reduced to a nervous wreck, while Liam felt a sense of barely contained aggression. That, of course, was exactly the sort of thing Dominic disliked before an event. A nervous, trembling little sissy was adorable, but a sissy who might lash out and disrupt the ceremony was not something he needed.

But Corey's nervousness, while cute, presented a problem of its own. Years of experience with this had taught Dominic that a nervous and humiliated sissy was liable to simply freeze and shut down in front of a crowd. Sissification done right really was an art form. It was a tightly managed line any trainer had to walk between a sweetly humiliated sissy with a pretty blush on her cheeks and a broken husk.

Liam's aggression and the risk of Corey freezing up was why the little addition to their respective dinners had been necessary. Not to erase their fear, and certainly not to rob the evening of its emotional texture, but to soften the sharper edges of panic. Dominic wanted Corey trembling, embarrassed, and receptive, not mute and unreachable. He wanted Liam angry enough to be entertaining, but not so quick that he ruined the staging. The ceremony depended on feeling real. It simply did not depend on either of them being entirely unmanaged. Neither Corey nor Liam knew that their dinner had included one small addition reserved for ceremony nights. Veronica Keene disliked unnecessary disruptions almost as much as Dominic disliked anything that spoiled the ambiance of an event, and over the years they had refined the practice into something routine. Nothing heavy. Nothing that would leave the honorees glassy-eyed or useless. Just a mild calming agent, folded into the meal with the same quiet efficiency as the seasoning, meant to soften panic, slow rash resistance, and make the body a little more willing to be led.

Corey felt it as a strange warmth settling through him. His fear did not disappear, but its sharpest edges seemed to blur. Thoughts that should have made him panic drifted through his mind and away again before he could properly hold onto them. Liam felt it differently. His skin grew hot, his limbs felt heavier than they should have, and the little pink cage beneath his skirt seemed even more present than before. Whatever they had given him had not removed the anger. It had only trapped it inside a body that felt slower, tighter, and less his own.

After dinner, still in their school uniforms, Doctor Keene took them to her office. It was a small room, dominated by a massive wooden desk behind which she took her place, looking down on them as they sat in the two chairs before it. Behind her was a window overlooking a tree that stood directly beside the mansion, while the rest of the room was lined with tall bookcases packed with books.

"So," she began, pushing her rectangular glasses up her nose, "today is a big day for the both of you. Only a couple of hours from now, you will receive new names. Your sissy names, to be exact, and all that in front of the entire mansion. The naming ceremony is one of the first true milestones in a sissy's life. Until now, you have been treated as beginners and still been addressed by the names you arrived with. After tonight, that changes. Your new names will be announced publicly, entered into the mansion's records, and used by your teachers, fellow students, and superiors from then on. Your new name will give shape to the expectations we have of you. It tells you, and everyone around you, who you are being trained to become. Naturally, neither of you is expected to fully accept it yet. Acceptance usually comes later, if at all. But the ceremony marks the point at which the rest of the world stops waiting for your permission. You are sissies. No doubt about it!"

She let that settle in for a moment, then continued.

"But before we get you prepared, does either of you have any questions?"

"Yes," Liam said immediately. "Did you drug us?"

"Perceptive," Keene thought, almost approvingly, but what she said was, "No. What gave you that idea?"

"I feel kinda sluggish and tired, and this would definitely be the sort of thing you... people would do," Liam answered.

Corey shot in, "Yeah, now that you mention it, I do feel tired."

"Well, you haven't been given anything," Keene said simply and got up. She wasn't really interested in trying to convince them that they hadn't because they wouldn't believe her anyway. "Follow me," she added, and the two got up sullenly and followed her.

She led them out of her office and into the corridor and the strangely empty mansion. Since most of the sissies and elites were either already preparing for the ceremony or helping set up the ballroom, the halls were quieter than Corey had expected.

Corey kept his eyes low as he walked, once again acutely aware of every bit of change sissification had caused his body so far. There were still moments like this, moments where it all seemed unreal again. His mind had unnervingly quickly adjusted to his new circumstances, probably to prevent self-hatred from destroying him. But every now and then, the sheer abnormality of his new life returned to the forefront of his mind. His wig, cut into a blonde bob, brushed lightly against his cheeks whenever he moved his head. Beneath the swishing skirt and soft white pantyhose of the school uniform, the little pink plastic cage sat snugly around his cock. He hated moments like these, where all the sensations of his sissification returned at once. After all, if you were distracted enough, you could even forget the chastity cage around your cock unless you had to use the bathroom. Corey liked that far better.

Keene glanced back at them without slowing and noticed that they were still walking like men. Of course, wearing skirts, pantyhose, and ballerina shoes helped with their gait a bit, but they didn't yet mince. But that would be partially addressed later tonight. Ankle chains would force them to take smaller, daintier steps and adopt a different posture. Since they would also wear high heels for the first time, they would have to be escorted up and down the stage.

"Oh, how they'll hate that," she thought, delighted. She could hardly wait to see.

They entered the same little beauty parlor Corey remembered from his first evening in the mansion. The same walls in that soft pink color, delicate sconces, and three salon chairs which stood in front of a long illuminated vanity. Each chair was upholstered in plush velvet, and the counters were lined with brushes, curling irons, palettes, perfumes, and lots of lip glosses in all types of colors, from nude to deep rose, though neither Liam nor Corey could've named them yet. The whole room smelled of artificial vanilla, not at all unpleasant, but certainly too feminine for their tastes.

Only now did Liam notice that Keene had simply taken them from her office to this room without a single explanation as to where she was taking them. And they had simply, obediently followed her, Liam only even noticed it now, almost as an aside. "A shitty development, indeed," he thought, trying to not take it too seriously.

Then Liam remembered that during their first makeover on the evening they had arrived, Corey and he had been split up, but this time it seemed they didn't consider it necessary anymore. That had very likely been deliberate, he decided. They wanted to isolate them from each other then, but now didn't think it was necessary anymore.

Behind the leftmost and rightmost salon chairs stood Madison and Jessica respectively, leaving the one in the middle empty.

They had clearly been dressed for this occasion, wearing neither their school uniforms nor their maid outfits. Instead, they looked like beauty salon employees, but filtered through Dominic's fucked-up mind, which just had to give the outfit that special sissy twist. They both wore fitted pink salon smock dresses with glossy white pearl buttons contrasting nicely with the pink of the smock dresses. The hems of said dresses barely reached mid-thigh, and beneath them they wore sheer white stockings that led down into shiny pink open-toed heels. Maddie's black hair and Jessica's blonde were pinned back with silver clips, and a superfluous name tag shaped like a heart above their left breasts told the mansion, which already knew their names, what they were called now.

Looking at their breasts, Liam, almost reflexively by now, consciously reminded himself that "these are basically guys, or at least like sissies. If you get hard, it's gay, so don't get hard." Not that he could get hard. The cruel pink plastic tube they had locked around his cock and called a chastity cage completely prevented it. To his surprise and relief, however, his cock didn't even try to get hard. That was good. Trying to get hard in the cage hurt, and the fact that he didn't get hard clearly meant his mind was starting to differentiate between sissies and real girls.

That hormones contained in every meal they were given here, combined with Pavlovian-like training of teaching his mind that every time it tried to get hard in the cage it would only experience pain, could have something to do with it didn't cross his mind.

Doctor Keene stopped inside the room for a short moment, turned to Corey and Liam, and told them,

"You will be prepared for the ceremony now. As you know, there are cameras in every room, so if you make any problems, you and your classmates will receive appropriate punishments," then she turned to leave.

Before she could fully leave the room, Corey said, smirking slightly, "The Geneva Convention has made collective punishments illegal."

To his surprise, Keene neither snapped at him nor threatened punishment. Instead, she gave a dry chuckle and said, "But you're in Dominic's little kingdom now, and he's not a signatory." With that, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

The two sissies then maneuvered their charges into their chairs, removed their wigs, put plastic capes over their bodies to keep their school uniforms clean, and got to work. They started in their old pairings: Madison with Liam, while Jessica stepped behind Corey. Then, for a few minutes, the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of the girls' preparation. Bottles were clicked open, brushes tapped and tested against palettes, drawers slid open, and the two deliberated what color skin tone each would require.

Madison loved this part of sissification almost more than anything. The little sounds of makeup and preparation made her belly flutter with that old, addictive excitement she had known for many years now. The click of a compact opening, that distinctive little pop of a fresh gloss being opened for the first time, the delicious clicking of her heels on the floor. It was all so girly, so intimate, and most importantly so frustrating. Dom's flat chastity cage pressed her tiny, naughty clitty tightly against her body. Hormones had seen to it that she couldn't get hard anymore. Combined with the cage, the mental image she often had was of her arousal being a diffuse pink light inside her body that, as a boy, had concentrated itself in her clitty, but now, as a sissy, was forced by the cage and her impotence back up into her belly and from there into her entire body. It felt like a constant fluttering sensation, like butterflies, like being in love. In love with Dominic.

Sometimes there were days where she just could not believe that boring, basic old Matthew had one day gotten to experience all this. Experience being Madison.

Meanwhile, Jessica was tilting Corey's chin up and studying him in the large vanity mirror. "Tonight," she began, "I'm afraid subtle will not be an option for you. The ballroom lighting will eat half the face, and the cameras the other half."

Corey swallowed. "Cameras?" he asked, a bit stupidly, even he thought immediately after having asked the question. Of course there would be cameras.

A dry little smirk appeared on Jessica's plump, reddish-looking lips. "Yes, sweetheart. Cameras. Try to keep up. Tonight isn't just happening to you. It's happening for an audience. And you should know by now that every little humiliating bit of your sissification is being recorded."

"Oh, leave him alone, Jessie!" Madison said, although she too was smiling. She was standing beside Liam as she said it, one hand under his chin and the other carefully blending a pale cream base along his jaw. Even though Liam was clearly unhappy and uncomfortable, Madison was pleasantly surprised that he hadn't done anything to resist so far. Of course, she had no idea of the mild addition to their dinner that Liam and Corey had been given.

"Can I ask what we're in for with that naming ceremony?" Corey asked into the room. He was really getting worried. The seriousness with which they all approached this was insane. How had this 50-year-old guy just been able to build a veritable second society located right in America's underbelly, where he reigned like a king and people lived their whole lives according to his nonsensical rules? It wasn't like they were actually getting renamed. No matter what Dominic wanted to call them, their legal names would remain Liam and Corey, but in here everybody behaved as though this was genuinely life-changing. Like Dominic actually had the power to change their names, to alter reality.

"What you're in for," Jessica said, reaching for a thick cream base, "is pageant makeup." It wasn't that she wanted to dodge his question, but Dominic had made it very clear that he wanted them as mentally unprepared for the ceremony as possible, and they were in a room Jessi knew had cameras.

Madison giggled from Liam's side of the vanity in reaction to what Jessica had said, then added, "Sissy pageant makeup."

Liam, looking tense beneath his plastic cape, shot her a look. "You're telling me there's a difference?" His head was throbbing lightly, and he felt as though every movement he made, no matter how small, was delayed by a moment or two. He knew that cold bitch Keene had definitely tampered with their dinner.

"Oh, definitely," Madison said, dabbing some primer across his forehead with an unbelievably soft sponge. "Normal pageant makeup is supposed to make a model look perfect from far away, but sissy pageant makeup makes us girlies look perfect and ridiculous from far away at the same time."

"Fucking amazing," Liam muttered.

Trying to distract himself from what was probably the greatest humiliation of his life, Corey asked, "Hey, how come you know sissification is supposed to be humiliating and still... I don't know where I was going with this. It's just weird that they outright tell us it's to humiliate us, you know."

Conscious of the camera, Jessica pursed her painted lips for a moment, and then delicately said, "Well, Mister Mercer is a bit of a sadist." When Madison shot her a look, she added, "What? I think it's fine to say that. He admits it often enough himself and can laugh about it."

Madison wasn't sure, though, and was certainly not one to take chances, so she quickly said, "Daddy Dommy gets off on us knowing and being unable to do anything about it, but it's also good for us, I think. Reminds us of our place, and sometimes being humiliated and dominated can be pretty hot, you know. There's, like, an incredible tingling sensation that comes with it. You'll see."

The foundation Jessica was now applying to Corey's face felt far heavier than any he had worn before. It was a smooth, almost mask-like layer that seemed to erase the texture of his skin as it spread. She worked it in with quick, efficient little motions, turning his chin this way and that. She didn't even need to think about it anymore. It had become like second nature.

Then, suddenly, the door to their little beauty parlor opened.

The heads of all four of them turned, though Jessica's hand remained firmly under Corey's chin. Dominic Mercer himself stood in the doorway. He was already dressed for the evening, wearing a handsome, dark suit and an infuriatingly pleasant expression.

"That fucker looks too much like a guy who thinks he's won in life," Liam thought.

Dominic, for his part, simply said nothing for a few seconds, enjoying the oh so appropriate nervousness all four sissies had at his unexpected arrival. The notion that technically five males and not a single female stood in this small room at that moment, though he was the only obvious male to any onlooker, pleased him immensely. It was all those little moments he got to experience day in and day out now that made the decades of hard, often unrewarding work worth it.

Jessica was the first to regain her cool, naturally, and she asked, "What can we do for you, sir?"

Dominic smiled. "Not much, honey." Then he fixed his dark, unrelenting eyes on Liam and said, "Liam, a word outside. Won't be long."

Liam hesitantly pushed himself up from the chair, the plastic cape rustling around him, as Madison stepped back at once to allow his passage. His half-made-up face looked absurd, one cheek still unfinished, pale cream visible along his jaw, pink plastic cape tied at his neck, school skirt brushing his thighs beneath it.

Dominic held the door open for him, followed him out into the corridor, and closed it behind them. Then he raised his phone, a video call already active, and held the screen near Liam's face without handing it over.

"Mom!" Liam called out in surprise. "W-where are you?"

His mother's voice sounded heavy, almost dreamy. "You're doing porn now, baby?"

Lianne Dawson was still an attractive woman at 42 years old. Her beauty had a worn quality to it, softened over the years, but still clearly there. She had full lips, fake-blonde hair she always wore loose, and heavy-lidded eyes that gave her a permanently drowsy look. Knowing this look suited her, she exaggerated it with smoky shadow and heavy, dark mascara.

"Porn?" Liam exclaimed, outraged. "The fuck did he tell you? No, I'm not doing porn!"

"The nice gentleman didn't tell me anything specific, honey. But it's totally fine if you are doing porn now, I think. Even crossdress porn, or whatever you have on your face. You're a big boy now. You can make some money if you want. You know, your mommy did a couple shoots herself back when she was young and pretty."

"Mom! Shut up!" Liam cried out, his face burning beneath the heavy makeup.

At the same time, Dominic cut in smoothly, "You're still very pretty, Lianne. Can I call you Lianne?"

"You can call me anything you want, handsome," Liam's mother answered, her heavy lids fluttering slightly as she smiled at him through the screen.

"But where are you right now, Mom?" Liam tried again.

"I'm in a motel off West Street right now," she answered, sounding slightly taken aback. "Did Hank not tell you that?"

Liam's stomach tightened. "Hank doesn't know where you are."

"Oh." Lianne blinked slowly, her heavy lids dipping and rising again as if the thought needed a moment to settle. "Well, maybe I forgot to tell him. Don't worry so much, baby. I'm fine."

"I'm sorry, Lianne," Dominic said pleasantly, "but he really has to get back now. We're planning to start at eight sharp."

"Of course!" she said. "I didn't mean to keep you. Bye, honey." Then, smiling vaguely, she hung up, and her dreamy, comforting face disappeared from the screen again, leaving Liam to stare at his own half-made-up reflection in the black glass.

The implication and purpose of the call were immediately clear to Liam. Dominic had somehow found and tracked down his mother, told her a warped version of what her son had gotten involved with, and had just now demonstrated to Liam that he knew where she was. If Liam caused any major disturbance now or in the future, Liam's mother would pay for it. At the very least, Dominic could simply report her to the police for "possession of a controlled substance," if not more.

And to think his plan had been, until five minutes ago, to wait out the three months and hope Dominic wouldn't do anything to force him to stay for longer than his initial signature forced him to. Liam felt frozen, like his organs had been packed in ice. Looking down, he saw he had goosebumps all over his arms.

So this was Dominic's play, and if he got away with it, Liam knew his life as a sissy sex slave of this perverted, sadistic son of a bitch was guaranteed. Passivity, Corey's way, was no longer an option. Liam would need to actively do something now. But if he did anything openly, like go to the police, his mother would get it. This considerably narrowed his options.

Waiting for three months was clearly naive when Dominic was already busy building the next layer of coercion.

He decided that tonight he had little choice but to be good. Until he came up with a plan and a strategy, a real strategy, he would have to go along with Dominic, for his mom's sake. And, he figured, at the very least, going along with it for now could perhaps lull that bastard into a false sense of security. Make him think he had already broken him, and then he would strike. He would beat Dominic senseless one day for this shit. He would repay him tenfold. He would make sure he rotted for the rest of his worthless life in some prison where he suffered every night.

This power fantasy kept Liam going, standing there with a face full of makeup, about to receive a sissy name. That power fantasy would perhaps even make the evening that was about to begin bearable. One day, Liam would make the bastard pay for every second Corey and he felt humiliated and degraded.

Around an hour later, Tiffany Mercer found herself sitting beside her husband at the table nearest the stage, her manicured hands folded in her lap and a sweet, practiced smile beautifying her face.

She had dressed exactly as Dominic had instructed, formal enough for the ceremony, but still appropriate enough for a sissy trophy wife. The gown she had chosen was a soft blush-pink satin that clung to her surgically narrowed waist before flowing down over her, in turn, surgically widened hips and thighs in one elegant fall. The dress's neckline was sweetheart-shaped and cut very generously to show off much of the D cups her husband had paid so much for. Despite it having been custom-made as a dress for sissies, Tiffany had to admit it really was beautiful.

Its satin moved deliciously across her hairless skin at every tiny movement. Every motion sent a whisper of fabric over her shaved thighs, flat stomach, and thin waist, reminding her that nothing about her body had been left unchanged. Beneath the gown, her flat chastity cage sat snugly against her, keeping her on edge for the evening now because, deeper still, sat a little Bluetooth butt plug connected to an app on Dominic's phone. Every so often, Dominic would move his thumb across the screen, and Tiffany would feel the addictive pulse again. He smiled lightly as he played with her, knowing that a single tab contained all the power needed to make her shiver, gasp, or even moan if he selected one of the more intense settings.

Her feet, too, had been prepared for display. Delicate six-inch heels, in the same blush-pink color as her satin dress, revealed her small, soft feet and toenails painted in a glossy pearly white. She had once found having to expose her feminized feet to be deeply humiliating and degrading. Today, it was still humiliating at times, but now the sight of her own pretty feet in those fragile shoes also made her feel excited, helplessly aware of herself, and at times even proud.

Looking around, she really had to admit that her husband had spared no expense for this event. The ballroom had been arranged beautifully. Round tables filled the floor before a large stage everyone was facing. Closest to the front were the proper tables, dressed in white cloth, with full-sized chairs and polished silverware laid out for the trainers, instructors, some invited guests, and the elite students. Emily sat among them, sharing a table with Hannah, her Asian friend, as well as Jason Tanner and his sister Brooke.

Farther back stood the sissy tables, covered in pink tablecloth instead of white, and both their tables and chairs were slightly smaller and lower than the others. They sat lower because they were lower, at least in Dominic's mind. Beginners, intermediates, and finished sissy house girls all occupied these pink little islands in the back. All except Jessica and Madison, who were not seated with their fellow sissies.

On the far left side of the room stretched a long banquet table holding platters, plates, trays, crystal bowls, and delightful little dessert towers. Serving sissies moved between this table and the seated guests, dressed in sissy maid uniforms. The uniforms Dominic had chosen for this event were black and white, not pink. The event was too important for such frivolity, in his opinion. Black satin dresses with crisp white aprons, puffed sleeves, high collars, and, of course, tight corsets that made their figures look incredibly neat and delicate were worn. Layers of white petticoats flashed beneath the short skirts whenever they curtsied, and little lace caps pinned their carefully styled hair back. White stockings vanished into glossy black heels clicking around on the floor as they minced to and fro with adorable, quick, little steps. Naturally, the elites were served first, but the sissies not on maid duty sitting at their pink tables also received food and drink.

The stage itself was hidden behind two vast velvet curtains that would be pulled back once the event began.

Looking at the red curtain, Tiffany couldn't help but feel her eyes water. This wasn't a role she was playing either. Her husband had instructed her to play the proud, emotional, and above all maternal sissy mommy tonight, but Tiffany found it came quite naturally to her these days. When had she become so emotional? As Terrence, she had rarely cried, except perhaps on those lonely, dark nights where she had looked at herself in one of her then-wife's dresses and seen it paired with a still relatively masculine body. But now, as Tiffany, especially since the hormone cocktail had really begun to be administered a few months into her sissification, she found that she could be reduced to tears unnervingly easily. Especially by Dominic, who gained a great amount of emotional leverage over her, and to think Terrence had once been able to make fun of "the wimp of Westbrook High."

Her thoughts were interrupted by another deep, pleasurable, and at once frustrating pulse blooming out from the butt plug lodged in her, pressing on her trained, sensitive prostate. Her smile trembled, and she partially failed to suppress a moan. She shot her husband a pleading look, but seeing his smirk, she knew that he was far too horny right now for that to work. She would simply have to bear it tonight.

Over the years, as his hobby expanded and became more sophisticated, Dominic had developed a certain model to better control sissies. It was not enough for a sissy to dress prettily or to have her useless little clitty locked away. That was only ever the beginning. A properly maintained sissy, in Dominic's view, should exist in a nearly continuous state of sexual arousal and frustration. To that end, he kept them caged, plugged, skin shaved smooth and rendered sensitive by hormones, prostate trained, and dressed in soft, teasing clothing that constantly rubbed over their skin and reminded them of their own altered bodies.

Satin, lace, stockings, tight waistbands, heels, even just the brush of a skirt against their bare thighs could become little but constant instruments of stimulation. A sissy's life was full of sensations.

To Dominic, the obvious appeal was sexual. A sissy kept constantly on edge was simply hotter: needier, prettier, more expressive, more likely to squirm, blush, sigh, and look at him with pleading eyes that were as wet as her leaky caged clitty. But there was a practical benefit too. A sissy in a continuously edged and aroused state thought a little less clearly, reacted a little more slowly, had less self-control, became easier to direct, and especially eager for even the tiniest scrap of relief. Relief that could always be framed as a reward for good behavior, thus creating a closed reward loop that sissies became ever more trapped in the longer they stayed.

Tiffany, sitting beside him in her blush satin gown, completely conquered and subjugated, was his finest proof of this. He rested his right hand lightly on her thigh beneath the table to feel her shudder as he turned up the butt plug with his other hand.

"Steady, baby," he murmured in her ear.

"Yes, honey," Tiffany whispered back, utterly obedient.

The room quieted, and the two large velvet curtains theatrically parted, revealing Jessica standing in the center of the stage before a microphone stand, wearing a beautiful sparkling pink hostess gown.

The dress hugged her tightly from chest to waist, its bodice covered in hundreds of tiny pink sequins that caught the stage lights and scattered them across the room in little flashes. The neckline was elegant but low enough to make her feel displayed, and two thin straps rested delicately on her shoulders. From her cinched waist, the gown fell in a smooth shimmering column to the floor, with a slit high enough to reveal one long stockinged leg whenever she shifted her weight. Matching pink heels lifted her posture, and a glossy ribbon belt at her waist held a tiny decorative bow just off-center, a deliberately sissyish detail that undercut the glamour of the whole thing.

"Ladies, gentlemen, honored guests, and sweet little sissies," she began, her voice amplified by the mic, "welcome to tonight's naming ceremony. This one, as you might have already guessed if you aren't a ditzy little sissy, is modeled somewhat after the Oscars." Some of the sissies even obediently giggled at that.

Standing here in the lights, having perhaps a hundred or so people look at her, she could feel years of training arranging her body for her. Shoulders back, chin lifted, one knee slightly bent, hands relaxed and pretty near the microphone stand. At times, she found it important to recall that "I am a boy in a dress, nothing more." Telling herself that always had a grounding effect on her. It somehow pulled her back from what she imagined as a precipice of madness she stood over, and falling down would mean losing herself completely. Of course, she could've told herself "I am a man in a dress, nothing more," but despite her insistence that she still was a boy, even she found it silly to refer to herself as a man. That ship had sailed long ago. Dominic had seen to that. She never should've tried taking him down...

"And like any good awards ceremony," she continued, "we are here to award something. Not a statue, not a medal, and certainly not a trophy. After all, aren't we all Dominic's trophies already?" Some polite laughter from the front and some nervous giggles from the back answered her.

Her eyes moved across the many faces in front of her and found Dominic's pair of dark eyes at one of the front tables. He didn't look displeased at her comment. The relief she felt from that paradoxically made her stomach tighten somewhat with resentment. She didn't want to feel relieved at having pleased that smug bastard. Another small victory for him.

"Tonight's awards are far more intimate than that," she continued. "Corey and Liam will each receive a name, chosen for them with great care, and once given, a name that will follow them through every lesson, every curtsy, every mincing little step they will take from tonight onward. In short, a name that will follow them for the rest of their lives."

"Just like I'm barely called Jacob by anyone anymore," she thought numbly.

"A name is not merely what people call you. It is what you are invited to become. Or, in the case of a sissy, what you are lovingly helped to become, whether you are clever enough to appreciate the honor yet or not." Jessica let that settle, then, smiling sweetly, continued, "And so, without further delay, let us welcome tonight's two honorees."

She turned slightly toward the side of the stage and announced, her lofty voice rising, "Corey Porter and Liam Dawson."

Tiffany clamped her manicured right hand over her mouth in a well-trained feminine gesture of surprise that had long since become second nature to her.

Corey appeared first, guided by Celine, from some unseen entrance to the right of the stage. From the other side of the stage, Liam emerged almost simultaneously with Madison at his side. The two finished sissies held their charges' hands delicately, almost as though presenting nervous princesses at a ball. That way, Celine and Maddy guided their respective sissies from either side of the stage toward Jessica and her mic stand, which stood at the stage's center.

Holding their hands and guiding them so delicately was not merely another means to humiliate them. It served a practical purpose too. Corey and Liam simply could not have crossed the stage properly on their own. Not in those heels, not with the hidden ankle chains forcing their steps short beneath the bell-shaped dresses, and certainly not with every eye in the ballroom fixed on them. Dominic had early on discovered that the simple human unwillingness to walk voluntarily toward one's own public humiliation could override one's fear of punishment and cause his sissies to freeze up in moments where he didn't want it. So Celine and Madison moved them delicately forward, smiling as they guided each tiny step.

Each dress was a vast pink sissy monstrosity, off the shoulders and bell-shaped, blooming outward from the waist in wide circles until it reached the floor. Hundreds of little fabric roses covered them so densely that the underlying material couldn't be made out anymore. The flowers overlapped in soft layers, rustling faintly with every movement, so that the boys seemed to whisper as they walked. Their bare shoulders and slender arms looked deliciously weak and fragile to Dominic. Off-the-shoulder dresses were just so magnificent when it came to highlighting his sissies' lack of muscles.

Corey's blonde bob framed his heavily made-up face, the soft ends curving inward toward his jaw. His skin had been smoothed by Jessica into something resembling a porcelain mask, his cheeks made bright with blush, his eyes made huge and vulnerable by rose shadow, dark eyeliner, and helplessly fluttering false lashes. Glossy pink lips completed the look, fuller and softer than they had any right to be. Tiffany did not recognize him as a boy in makeup anymore, but only saw a frightened pageant girl trying very hard not to cry.

"She's beautiful," she mouthed to Dominic when she noticed him studying her reaction.

And she meant it. Sure, the dress did what work it could to make all this look ridiculous rather than graceful, but even so, Corey hadn't had any work done on him yet. No facial feminization had softened the bones of his face so far. No throat surgery had removed his Adam's apple and feminized his voice. No waist work or body contouring had given him the shaped, delicate silhouette of a finished sissy.

And yet, with enough time, makeup, clothing, and care, he could already be made to look completely feminine. The foundation had smoothed him, the blush had sweetened him, the lashes had opened his eyes, and the blonde bob framed his face so naturally that it hurt to look at him. His potential was enormous, Tiffany realized, and a strange but exhilarating mix of pride and shame brought tears to her eyes. Again, she wondered when she had become so emotional.

With Liam, it worked less well, but the makeup betrayed him too. His dark-brown layered wig brushed past his ears, softening the hard line of his glare. The pale base and careful contour had reshaped his face, while pink shadow, some lashes, and the blush turned his furious expression into something that looked sulky rather than livid. Unlike Corey, who seemed to move like a sleepwalker on Celine's hand, Liam walked as well as he could himself, even as the dress, heels, and chains reduced his stride to tiny, humiliating steps.

At her table, Emily pressed one hand over her mouth in shock and some delight. She had seen Corey in makeup before, of course, but never like this. He looked like a genuine sissy, and she wondered if it would even be right to support him if he wanted to leave Dominic's care after three months. It was a dangerous world out there, and she had never realized how fragile her boyfriend truly was, apparently. She had never relied on Corey to protect her, but she also hadn't realized that perhaps it was he who needed her protection. A guilty thrill moved through her as she considered that.

On stage, meanwhile, Celine and Madison had brought Corey and Liam to their marks beside Jessica. Neither boy was released. Celine kept Corey's hand in hers, thumb stroking lightly over his knuckles as if soothing a nervous bride, while Madison remained close to Liam, her grip gentle enough to look affectionate but firm enough to make him understand that Dominic wasn't giving him a choice. She didn't want to be punished, after all. She wanted to do well in her daddy's eyes.

Jessica turned back to the microphone, affecting a bright smile, and swallowed. Then she said, "Don't they look lovely?"

This was Dominic's cue. He got up from his table, winked confidently at his wife, and went up onto the stage wearing a very pleased expression. Jessica stepped aside and Dominic said into the mic, "They certainly do, Jessi. They certainly do."

"Thank you, Jessica," he said, his voice carrying easily before he had even reached the microphone. "And thank you all for joining us tonight. A naming ceremony is always special. It is not merely a party, not merely a performance, or even just a little humiliation, charming as that may be. It is the moment when a sissy's life takes shape. When two beginners are no longer only what they were when they arrived, but truly become part of us!"

He turned slightly, looking at Corey and Liam.

"Tonight, we honor that beginning."

A loud wave of applause moved through the ballroom, and Dominic smiled, then reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and removed a small cream-colored envelope. He held it up just long enough for the guests to register the gesture, then, theatrical and deliberate, like an award presenter about to announce the winner of the evening, he opened it.

"Corey," he said, "from now on you will be referred to as... Chloe!"

A louder burst of applause filled the room, and down at her table, Tiffany mouthed the name "Chloe" silently to herself, tasting it for the first time. Tasting the name of her new daughter.

"And Liam," Dominic said, turning his eyes to him, "from now on you will be called... Lily!"

The applause came again, from the white tables first and then from the pink ones behind them. Madison squeezed Liam's hand softly, as though congratulating him. Down at her table, Corey saw that Tiffany was crying openly. To him, the entire event seemed unreal. It felt like a dream, like all he was doing was moving through a dream. It was as if he was floating outside himself, not directly experiencing this public humiliation personally, but as an observer.

But from that calm position of the observer, he also knew that he would come to feel the impact of this humiliation. It would likely throw a shadow over the rest of his life. No matter what happened from now on, no matter if he got out or remained a sissy forever, he knew that this was one of those events that changes you. He didn't know how exactly it would change him, but he knew that it would.

Dominic, meanwhile, folded his card and put it back into his pocket.

"Chloe and Lily," he repeated warmly. "Welcome."

And so, while Corey and Liam had not yet disappeared, Chloe and Lily had already been born.