Date: Tue, 09 Jan 2024 18:56:15 +0000 From: sunnysideboy Subject: Sissification of my brother Hello everyone. I bring you this story, I hope you like it :) I'm answering all the mails, I really appreciate your comments, feedback an ideas, I really do. If you have any suggestion or inspiration for the story please let me know. If you are liking it, please consider donating to this great website that allows us to find each other through these stories at the link https://donate.nifty.org/. Disclaimer: Remember that It is a fictional story whose sole purpose is to entertain, it does not promote or condone any type of act contrary to the law of any country and should not be read by minors. *** I hate my brother Danny. Well... to be more accurate, I don't hate him, but he really gets on my nerves, especially lately. He's 14 years old, blond, slim, green eyes, and he has this big smile that he flaunts wherever he goes. He's very charismatic, and everyone always wants to be around him. However, he's also a brat who always wants his way and is constantly plotting mischief. I think things got worse in the last year. Danny decided to grow his hair out. Our parents were against the idea, but being an excellent manipulator, he managed to convince them to let him grow his hair long. At first, it reached the nape of his neck, then a bit lower, and now it falls over his shoulders. And yes, I know many guys with long hair look strange or unkempt, but that's not the case with my brother. The darn guy, as expected, looks beautiful. He has extremely feminine features, and with long hair, he looks more like a mermaid than a 14-year-old boy. He has received several modeling gigs, which have only worsened his annoying and conceited behavior. If I compare him to the rest of his friends or the boys in his class, Danny is undoubtedly the one who stands out the most. Not only because of his enviable golden hair but also because he looks like he's taken from a painting. His classmates are usually covered in dirt from playing sports or look awkward due to growth spurts, but my brother looks... perfect, all the time. There's no photo of him where he looks bad, no clothing that fits him awkwardly--whatever he wears looks fantastic. He's one of those people who excel in everything they do, even when they fail. Since my parents lend me the car more and more often, I'm the one who must pick up Danny from school. That's how I've noticed how distinctive my brother is compared to his classmates. I pick him up and take him to his extracurricular activities, which include swimming and, oddly enough, ballet. Danny started taking dance classes at the age of 8 after the school took his class to watch a performance of Romeo and Juliet. He's the only boy in his ballet class, and it's easy to see why: it takes a special kind of character to wear tights, a leotard, and ballet shoes without feeling vulnerable. However, I must say that Danny is an excellent dancer; he has the grace of a panther and can do a split while yawning. At home, you can see him dancing around, twirling his long hair here and there. I hate my brother, and I just can't stop seeing how sexy he is lately. I think that's what conflicts me the most. I mean, he's my brother, but looking at him I can't help but appreciate all his features, his face so androgynous, his long legs, his pink lips, his ass so well lifted. He's cuter than any of the girls he takes dance lessons with. I know for sure he'd be the most popular girl in school. When I pick him up from school I get to watch him change in the car: he takes off his school uniform pants, revealing his skin-colored dance belt - which he insists on wearing all day - and takes off his T-shirt and shoes and puts on his white leotard first, then his black tights. At those moments I find it too hard to control myself from running my hand over the spandex covering his bulge between his legs. It's almost impossible for me not to look away from the road to see his hairless legs or his very slim waist. I'm not going to lie, I love taking my brother to his classes, but it's getting really hard for me, I have to control myself and it's getting harder and harder, especially because when his ballet class is over, Danny doesn't change until he gets home, then I have to see him dressed like that again on the way back, only this time his body is lathered with sweat. Besides, the little brat likes to stretch out in the passenger seat, so he starts to bring his leg behind his head while I try not to kill us both. In swim class it's a little worse because even though all his classmates wear swimsuits that cover their thighs, Danny insists on wearing speedos that are too small. I mean, my brother is 14 years old and he still buys swimsuits for 7 year olds. So, as I wait for him sitting on the bleachers of the pool where he trains, I can't take my eyes off my little brother's bulge. I imagine running my hand over him, slowly opening his legs so I can pull down the fabric and kiss the dick that is so marked. I don't know, I know it's not right and whatever you want, but it's how I feel, and I can't help but have these thoughts no matter how much I want to ignore them. Anyway, I believe the moment that was the last straw was when they offered Danny a modeling job, but for girls' clothing. My brother is so androgynous that undoubtedly no one would notice the difference. For that job, they gave my parents a good amount of money, and they used part of it for our university fund and part of it to pamper Danny in whatever he wanted for a week. We went to amusement parks, bought him video games, ate wherever he wanted, went to the zoo... we spent an entire week doing what he wanted. From that moment on, Danny became tantrum-prone and behaved poorly at home. He didn't do his chores and always wanted things to be done his way or he would get upset. He was becoming a nightmare. I know it's his money, but that doesn't give him the right to treat me or my parents like his personal servants. After some days the photo shoot publications arrived in the mail in a big envelope. My parents, as usual, had taken Danny to the movies because he wanted to see a recently released film, so I would be the first to see them. I took the publications to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. I sat by the counter and opened the first one. I was looking for my brother's photographs, and when I finally found them, I almost choked on the water. I knew the photos were of girls' clothing, but no one had told me it was clothing for a 6-year-old girl. My younger brother was wearing, in a nationwide distributed publication, clothing meant for a little girl, and the worst part was that it fit him well, perfectly. In some photos, he wore pink dresses that reached his thigh, adorned with bows, buttons, and ruffles. In others, he wore knee-high socks with Mary Jane strap shoes. He wore skirts, blouses, all adorned with childish motifs like cartoons, rainbows, and colorful animals. In some photos, he even modeled underwear where any trace of masculinity between his legs had been completely edited out. Page after page, I could see my brother wearing pink tights or one-piece swimsuits, dresses, school uniforms, pajamas, and even makeup--basically everything an elementary school girl would wear. Then I understood why he had been paid more than usual for the photo shoot. I closed the publications and left them in the mail again. I was uneasy. On one hand, my brother acted like the king of the house when, in reality, he dressed like a little girl and smiled for the camera. I felt the urge to teach him a lesson to bring down his arrogance, especially considering the type of photos he had taken. But on the other hand, I couldn't hide the boner I had in my pants. Danny looked good as a boy, extremely good, I knew that, but as a girl he looked much, much better. I knew I couldn't get the images I just saw out of my head so even though I knew I would regret what I was about to do, I took the publication to his room. In there I locked the door, took one of his ballet leotards from the drawer and started to smell it. It smelled like detergent but also it smelled like him. I was too excited. I placed the publication on the floor, and I got down on my knees in front of it. The picture I was looking at was one where my brother was wearing baby blue panties, and a pink blouse while looking in a hand mirror and pretending to put on red lipstick. The caption read "My first makeup kit." All of the photographs were quite innocent and harmless, not a trace of morbidity. It was a serious publication and my mother had been with Danny the whole time. However, that photograph had something that set my heart racing a thousand miles an hour. My brother looked like a sissy, feminine and slutty or at least that's how I saw him in that picture. Then, just as I was, on my knees looking at that picture and smelling some leotard of his, I began to jerk off until my cum soaked my jeans, my shirt, my hand and the carpet under me. I tried to keep the publication intact and once I made sure it was okay, I collapsed on Danny's bed which immediately flooded me with his scent. I hadn't lasted at all. It usually took me several minutes to cum, sometimes it could even take hours, but this time only a few seconds were enough to soak me with my own cum. I didn't even have time to imagine my little brother's pink lips on my dick, or my fingers between his legs, or the moans he would let out every time he touched himself in the night. I had time for absolutely nothing. Without knowing when, I fell asleep on Danny's bed. I only woke up when I heard the front door of the house open. Panic quickly engulfed me, and I jumped to my feet. I quickly stored my brother's leotard in his drawer and picked up the publication from the floor. I was about to leave when I noticed the cum stains on his bed. I was ready to clean them, but I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, so I left the room and ran as discreetly and quietly as I could to my own room, where I locked myself in. I was nervous and distressed, just waiting to hear Danny, or worse yet, my parents scream my name and demand explanations for why my brother's sheets were covered in cum. What do you say to that? God, I felt extremely lost. But minutes passed, then a couple of hours. I saw the lights go out on the lower floors, and everyone closed their doors. Then silence. No one spoke to me or shouted my name. It wasn't until 2 in the morning that I decided to leave my room. The hallway was dark and silent. My brother's door was slightly ajar, so I peeked in and saw him sleeping peacefully. His sheets were almost on the floor, and from where I was, I could see the traces of my semen. I took a deep breath. The first thing I did was return the publication to the mailbox inside the envelope, which luckily my parents hadn't checked upon arrival. Then I took a cloth from the kitchen, soaked it thoroughly with water, and, like a shadow in the night, entered my brother's room to clean the sheet. It took a few minutes in which I didn't even want to breathe. I passed the cloth as many times as I could and left everything as clean as possible. When my brother stirred, I took the opportunity and darted back to my room. I closed the door behind me and waited: silence again. I lay on the bed, and only when the stress and anxiety dissipated from my blood, I managed to fall asleep. Once again, I was abruptly awakened. This time it was the voices of my parents and Danny coming from the hallway. It was eight in the morning on a Saturday, strange for them to be awake so early. I left my room and approached them. "There's nothing wrong with wetting the bed, son, I told you. Remember, you didn't stop until you were 9," my father said as he picked up the sheets from the floor and carried them to the hallway. "I didn't wet the bed! How many times do I have to tell you? I didn't wet myself while sleeping." "What we're saying is that it doesn't matter. You shouldn't feel bad. Accidents happen," added my mom. "What happened? Everything okay?" I asked, still groggy. "No, everything is not okay. My parents think I wet the bed last night because the sheets are completely wet. I've told them it wasn't me, that I didn't wet myself, but they treat me like a child." "You are a child, son, it's okay," my father added, further infuriating Danny. "No, I'm not!" They argued for almost an hour, during which I took the wet cloth from my room and threw it in the garage without anyone seeing me. Then I sat in the living room, watching TV while eating a bowl of oatmeal. Unknowingly, I had killed two birds with one stone: my brother had gotten into trouble, and I had fulfilled one of the fantasies I had with him. That would be the first of many fantasies I would fulfill. *** The weekend finally passed quietly. Danny was very angry, so much so that he hardly spoke, which was pleasant for once. The following week, I picked him up from school and took him to ballet class, but he still didn't say a word to me. Before dropping him off at the door, I asked him why he was mad at me when I hadn't done anything. He replied: "Let go of me, damn it. For fucks sake" he got out of the car and went into the class. Danny didn't use bad words. Not even I used bad words. It's not that they were prohibited at home, but no one used them, so him saying that angered me, and in revenge, I knew exactly what I was going to do. It was one thing to dress like a little, conceited girl, but my brother was already 14 years old and was behaving extremely childish. Did he want to be treated like a little kid? Okay, I would take care of that. The class ended, and I took him back home. We didn't exchange a single word. He just combed his hair and looked at his phone the entire way. Inside the house, he ignored my parents' greetings and went straight to his room, slamming the door. "Why is he upset?" my mother asked. "He had an... accident after school," I replied with my brother's backpack in hand, handing it to my parents. "Several kids saw it and teased him for it." My parents approached and took Danny's pants that I had previously wet with his own water bottle. Both sighed, as if implying they already knew something like this would happen. "What do we do now? I don't want him to get more upset, but he can't go around wetting himself either," my mother said. "Besides, it hadn't happened in public before, at least not since he was a baby." "Yes, he used to wet the bed, but only the bed, remember?" my father asked. I nodded. "But indeed, we can't let him wet himself. Maybe it's because of the stress from the photo sessions or something like that. We should take him to the doctor." "Before taking him to the doctor... I think I have an idea. Maybe, well, we can buy him diapers. If we see that he stays dry for a couple of weeks... or better yet, a couple of months, then we can avoid taking him to the doctor, which would only stress him out more." "I think that's a good idea," my mother said, nodding. "I mean, he's quite slim; the diapers we have in the attic might fit him, the ones we bought when he used to wet the bed before." "But they have drawings of teddy bears and stars. Isn't that... childish?" my father asked, not entirely convinced. "It will only be until he gets control," I said, trying not to grin. *** It was a quite intense week; Danny made us all suffer with his rudeness and tantrums. In the first few days, he completely opposed the idea of wearing diapers. He came close to physically attacking us, but he controlled himself, and by Saturday, even though he didn't fully accept the idea, at least he had stopped putting up a fight. From that day on, my brother would wear a diaper day and night under his clothes, to school, and to dance classes... he would only change it for swimming, but as soon as he got out of the pool, he would put one back on. I don't know what he was thinking... I mean, that week I entered his room a couple of nights to wet the sheets with water before he woke up, so maybe in the end, he thought he was indeed having accidents and wetting himself without realizing it. Anyway, on Saturday, my parents had gone out to do the grocery shopping. It was a sunny hot day of summer. I went downstairs and saw my brother having cereal in front of the TV. He was only wearing a shirt and a diaper just as my father had described it: it had four adhesive strips and an elastic waistband. In the front, it had colorful teddy bears, and in the back, it had a bunch of stars drawn on it. They were bright white with some blue touches. Pretty masculine for my little brother, in my opinion compared with the pictures in the publication. "Good morning, what are you watching?" I asked, sitting next to my brother. "Hi... I'm watching Danny Phantom" He answered, tiredly. "It's a cartoon, isn't it?" "Yes" "You look like the main character, you even have the same name. Only you have longer hair," I said and that made him giggle. We watched cartoons all morning, when then I had an idea. I moved in the couch closer to Danny and put my hand down to his crotch, touching him all over his diaper, massaging it. "What the fuck are you doing?" he shouted. "First of all, don't curse again. Stop doing it at once, it sounds horrible. Secondly, my parents asked me to check your diaper and make sure it wasn't wet so you wouldn't chafe." "Ok... but I think I can tell if I'm wet or not" "We don't know, I would also think you can go to the bathroom at night but you end up wetting your sheets." He didn't answer. He stopped pushing me away and instead closed his eyes slowly, as if he was falling asleep, while I massaged his crotch in circular motions. I stayed like that for a few moments, feeling his cock begin to rise. It was so hard I could feel its edges and throbbing through the diaper. Danny began to moan slowly, throwing his head back and letting his hair fall onto the couch like a rolling waterfall as the TV continued to make noise. I was like that for about five minutes when I heard the garage door open and my parents pull the car in. "You're dry," I said and got up to help unload the groceries. Danny opened his eyes then and blushed. He was in a very good mood that day after that.