Sissy | Sex Stories APP

Chapter 1: Sissy and her Momma

Sissy groaned softly as the call of nature gradually pulled her from a blissful sleep. She rolled away from Momma and rose groggily from the bed they shared. With a low moan of her own, Momma turned over and snuggled deeper under the covers. Sissy stumbled across the one-room flat and entered the bathroom. The white tiled floor was cold beneath her bare feet. Blinking in the morning light, she caught her reflecton in the mirror over the sink as she stopped in front of the toilet. Brushing back her wild mane of sleep-tousled black hair, she yawned hugely and lifted her plain white nightdress above her waist, then paused as she looked down with a frown.

Her shame-stick stared right back up at her with its one slitted eye.

An irritated sigh escaped through her nose as she pursed her plump pink lips in consternation. This was happening more and more. She tried to bend the thing down, but it was too stiff. It bobbed back up, slapping against her white belly when she let it go. The bloated purple head now seemed to be grinning, mocking her. The danglies in their ugly crinkled sack below were drawn up into a tight ball beneath the base. She waited impatiently, but the thing did not begin to droop as it usually did. Finally, she wet a cloth with cold water and wrapped it around the uncooperative organ. It sent a shiver through her but the swelling did not drop one little bit. She whimpered at the discomfort in her bladder.

“What’s the matter, Sis?” Momma startled her, entering the room behind her.

Sissy turned around and displayed her problem. “My thing won’t let me go pee,” she whined.

“First of all, sit down like a proper little lady,” Momma ordered with a scolding slap to Sissy’s bare bottom. She scowled down at the protuberance poking up from Sissy’s lap. “Nasty little shame-stick! Did you try a cold compress?”

“Yes, Momma. It didn’t work…”

“Well, push it down between your legs,” Momma instructed brusquely. “That’s right, now lean forward…farther, until you can point it down. There you go. Now go pee. Hurry up, Momma’s gotta go too.”

Sissy sat spread-legged, awkwardly pushing the thing down with one hand and the other on the floor to keep herself from toppling off the toilet. She stared at the worn and chipped red polish on Momma’s impatiently tapping toes as she tried desperately to get her pee to flow through the swollen instrument of her shame. Finally a trickle, then a slow but steady stream eased her discomfort. Finished, she wiped the tip with tissue and rose to let Momma take her place.

“Take off your nightdress and brush your hair,” Momma directed.

“Yes, Momma,” Sissy replied and pulled the gown off over her head. She picked up the hairbrush and began trying to brush the tangles out of her nearly waist-length black hair as she listened to Momma tinkle. The thing continued to stand up, looking at her. She saw Momma frowning at it. “I’m sorry, Momma,” she muttered, shame-faced. “Do you think it will ever go down? How am I going to hide it when it’s like this?”

“Come here, baby girl. Bring your cream.”

Sissy retrieved her jar of special cream from the medicine cabinet and went to Momma, sitting on her lap when Momma motioned her down. Momma reached over and pulled a rubber glove from a box on the shelf to the side. She pulled the tight glove onto her hand, snapping the latex into place, then dipped her fingers into the cream from the jar that Sissy opened and held out for her. Flipping Sissy’s hair back over her shoulder, she began to apply the cream to Sissy’s chest.

“Your lady-bumps are growing nicely, dear,” Momma cooed, gently massaging the hormone cream into each pliant, half-grapefruit sized breast.

Sissy smiled happily. She loved her lady-bumps, and it felt really good when Momma applied her cream, especially on the tips. The 2 inch wide dusky pink circles would crinkle up to half their normal size and the little buds in the center would grow stiff and red, like they were now.

“Are lady-bumps called titties, Momma?”

“Where did you hear that?” Momma asked sharply.

Sissy faltered at her mother’s tone. “Those men working n the street yesterday. I heard one of them say to a woman walking by, ‘show us your titties baby’ and he went like this..” She cupped her hands under her chest and made a juggling motion.

“Men!” Momma spat distastefully. “Yes, that’s one of the things men will call our lady-bumps, but it is vulgar and a lady does not say such things! You hear me?” She emphasized her admonishment with a painful pinch to one of Sissy’s erect buds.

Sissy flinched. “Yes, Momma!” she blurted. The pinch hurt, but somehow it made her shame-stick throb even harder. It was becoming quite uncomfortable. “Momma, what about that–what if it doesn’t go away?” she pointed down there plaintively.

Momma glanced at it and sighed. “You’re 16 now. I guess we have to face the fact that the cream can’t hold puberty off forever.”

“What’s puberty, Momma?”

“It’s when your body changes, from a girl to a woman. It’s why you have this hair growing down here and in your armpits. It’s why your shame-stick is staying erect all the time.”

“You mean it’s going to stay this way?” Sissy asked with alarm. Tears began to well up in her eyes. How would she ever hide her shame?

“No no, baby girl,” Momma soothed. “Momma will make it go away. Don’t you worry. It’s distasteful, but there is a way to make the swelling go down. Now, wipe your eyes, give me a little more of that cream and Momma will make it all better.”

Sniffing back her tears, Sissy held the jar out for Momma, then set it aside. She shivered as Momma slathered the cool cream on the ugly purple head of her shame-stick. Then Momma wrapped her gloved hand around the tumescent organ and began to stroke it up and down.

Sissy nearly swooned.

She felt the blood rush to her face. It felt so…good. As Momma’s tightly-gripping fist worked the slippery cream into it, the upthrust shaft jerked and twitched as if it had a mind of its own. The swollen knob bulged even bigger, angrier. Every muscle in her young body grew tense. She couldn’t even breathe as it felt like a spring somewhere down below, beneath the danglies, was being wound tighter and tighter.

“Momma!” she gasped.

Then suddenly that tightly wound spring exploded! Her entire body convulsed, the danglies contracted, the shame-stick pulsed and thick white goo shot out. With each contraction of the hidden spring, another spurt of the stuff, shooting up onto her lady-lumps, her belly, Momma’s hand. Momma kept stroking until the contractions subsided, the goo stopped coming out, the spring was sprung. Suddenly overcome with weakness, Sissy collapsed, holding on around Momma’s neck to keep from falling.

“Shh, shh, baby girl, it’s all over now,” Momma rocked her gently, still holding the twitching shame-stick in her hand as it did, indeed, slowly relax to its normal limp state.

Sissy found herself gently weeping, her face buried in Momma’s billowy red hair. As her breathing returned to normal, she sat back up and looked at the mess that had come out of her.

“What is that stuff, Momma?” she sniffled.

Momma released her and began gingerly peeling the messy glove from her hand. “That is the evil-seed,” she replied with a look of distaste at the dripping white goo. “It builds up inside your shame-stick. Momma will have to milk it for you when it gets too full. Now, jump in the shower, get cleaned up. After breakfast we’ll do your home-schooling, then, if you are a good girl, Momma take you for a special treat.”

Letting the thought of evil seeds growing inside her fade to a vaguely troubling afterthought, she jumped up excitedly. The milking of her shame-stick had left her feeling exhilarated. “What kind of treat, Momma?”

Momma smiled indulgently. “How does a girls’ day at the spa sound? Mani-pedi’s?”

“Really, Momma?” Sissy literally quivered with excitement. They rarely went anywhere other than shopping for food or the library.

“If you’re a good girl,” Momma repeated, then with another scowl at the evil-seed covering Sissy’s front, she pointed to the tub. “Shower.”

Sissy dutifully stepped into the tub and turned on the water. After adjusting the temperature, she gave Momma, still sitting on the toilet watching her, a happy smile before she pulled the curtain and engaged the shower. She watched the goo rinse off her chest and belly, then grabbed the soap and began washing. Too excited, she started to pop her head out and ask Momma a question about the promised treat. She was stopped short, however, when she saw something through a tiny gap in the curtain. Catching her breath, she leaned closer and peeked through the gap.

Momma was still sitting where she had been, but she had her legs thrown wide open and was rubbing herself. Down there. Sissy’s heart thudded heavily. Somehow she knew she was witnessing something she was not meant to see. Momma’s eyes were closed, her mouth was open. She had a pained expression as she moved her hand rapidly between her legs.

Sissy and Momma shared a bathroom. They shared a bedroom. They shared a bed! Sissy had seen Momma naked hundreds of times. She knew Momma was different down there. She had no shame-stick, no danglies–that was Sissy’s shame to bear. But other than curly dark hair, she had never seen what Momma did have–a flower! A blossom, with dark pink petals, opened up like a butterfly’s wings!

Momma’s blossom was none to delicate, however, judging by the way she was rubbing it–hard and fast. Momma’s other hand reached up to squeeze her lady-bumps. She always wore pretty nightdresses that you could see right through. The one she had on now was pink and covered with frills at the top and bottom, but it did nothing to hide in-between. Sissy could see her huge lady-bumps, hanging heavily as she squeezed them. The buds thick and long as she pinched them roughly. She reached to her own soap-slippery chest to mimic Momma’s behavior, squeezing her bumps and stifling a gasp as she pinched and twisted her own buds.

Then Momma’s groping hand came across a glob of Sissy’s evil-seed that had landed on her nightdress. She opened her eyes and scooped it up with her finger. She brought it to her nose and sniffed it, her eyes rolling back as she stuck it in her mouth and sucked on it as if it were mana from heaven. Sissy wished she hadn’t rinsed all the seed off so she could taste it herself! Then Momma stuck two fingers into her blossom!

There was a hole there! And Momma’s fingers plunged in and out as fast as the jackhammer the men in the street had used yesterday! Her feet came off the floor, knees rising and spreading even wider as she gasped and jacked even harder.

Sissy suddenly realized that she had been unconsciously soaping herself between the legs, and her shame-stick had risen to stare at her, apparently once again full of the evil-seed. With her pulse racing and her breathing shallow and rapid, she wrapped her hand around it and began stroking it like Momma had. It felt good in her hand–long, hard, slick with soap. And her hand felt good on it. Almost as good as Momma’s had felt. Shame momentarily forgotten, she pinched harder on her crimson buds and pumped her fist as fast as she could, watching Momma through the gap.

Momma’s face was screwed up into a grimace of passion, red and sweaty with clenched teeth. She suddenly pulled her fingers out of her blossom, wet and glistening, and rubbed it frenziedly at the top. Her free hand covered her mouth, stifling a gasping exclamation. Sissy could see the blossom contracting on itself as Momma’s entire body convulsed. It suddenly dawned on Sissy–Momma’s spring had sprung!

The shock of realization, plus her own furiously pumping hand, caused her own spring to go off also. The evil-seed erupted, squirting out to be lost in the spray of the shower. Her knees nearly buckled. Thank goodness for the non-slip mat in the bottom of the tub as she fell back weakly against the wall, squeezing out the last of the evil from her shame-stick.

The last glob of white goo she squeezed into the palm of her left hand. As her breathing caught up and her hammering heart settled, she brought it to her nose and sniffed, then licked it clean. Curious odor, slightly salty tasting–she was still contemplating it when Momma’s voice nearly stopped her heart altogether.

“Hurry up in there! I’m going to fix breakfast.”

“Yes, Momma!” she exclaimed and hurriedly reached for the soap.