The Sissy Models

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

*****

"It's not something I've ever done," Daddy said, with a frown though the fact he hadn't laughed it out of hand meant I knew I had a good chance of persuading him.

"There's a first time for everything," I answered.

"What if someone recognises us, Ricki?" he asked.

"They won't" I said reassuringly, "Once we're done up in make-up, with our hair all done and in dresses no-one's going to recognise us – they won't even put our real names in the magazine."

"it's not something I've ever considered," he said, though that was a lie as I'd seen the hidden sissy fashion magazines, with the well thumbed pages and ticks beside some lovely, fetching dress or a hair style he knew would suit him. However I also knew that wimpy as he was (as I was as well) my divorced Daddy would never take the plunge and try it without some encouragement.

"There's a twenty thousand prize for first place, with ten thousand for second and five for third," we weren't in penury, but neither were we so well-off that even five thousand wouldn't be a nice addition to our house funds.

It was the excuse he needed to give a reluctant nod, "So all we need to do now is send a photo of us together."

"Yes," I'd already printed a few out for him to agree, confident I could persuade him to give it a go. I spread them out over the table. Luckily we were as close as Daddy and son could be and there had been plenty to choose from, though my favourite was the two of us sitting on the edge of a pool in our trunks. I paused in silence as Daddy looked over them, before deciding to explain a little bit more to give him an idea what to choose. "At the moment all "Sissy Fashionista" magazine is looking for is a picture of us, which I'll send in. Then they're going to choose the top one hundred to feminise for photo shoots, with at the end them choosing the winners."

He nodded and looked up, "So they might not even choose us?"

"They might not," I was aware of the risk that I was putting up my hopes, and secretly his, for it all to come crashing down with a rejection slip. But I was confident, we both had a soft, feminine look, our facial hair taking ages to grow and even then was wispy and our lips rounder and larger than the average man's. Our chests, legs and arms were smooth like a baby porpoise's and we both had collar length hair, which could be easily styled into a fashionable, but ladylike, look.

"Well, there's not much harm in entering," he said, "We can always pull out if we get accepted and change our minds, can't we?"

"Yes," I agreed verbally, whilst mentally crossing my fingers.

"Okay then," said Daddy and pushed a picture across the table. It was off the two of us, standing close together and sipping a non-alcoholic cocktail from the same glass. It wasn't the best shot, but it showed that we were close and as this was a Daddy and son competition, it was why I'd put it in the selection.

I picked it up and slid it in an envelope, writing the address of Sissy Fashionista on it, before putting on a stamp and sealing it. "I'll just send this off," I smiled.

-

I wouldn't say that every morning I was rushing for the mail, but I'm not going to deny that I felt a frisson of excitement as I opened anything addressed to me. Daddy didn't say anything, but I noticed that he would stop what he was doing to watch me as tore the envelope open, and a brief look of disappointment would pass his face when he saw it was something as unexciting as college scholarship forms for next year.

It was about a month later when the response came and I knew we'd been invited as soon as I opened the envelope and saw Sissy Fashionista on the letter heading. The letter itself gave the bare details, we'd been shortlisted for the competition, where the shoot was and when, and a confirmation of the prizes on offer. The accompany material gave us more detail, included a detail itinerary and a brochure, showing shots of previous Daddy-son winners and how good they looked as it followed them from the start of the process to the end shots. It also gave us some hints on how to prepare, including buy high-heels to practice walking around the house and the best ways to remove any unsightly hair.

Over the next couple of weeks it wasn't unusual to see me and Daddy tottering around the house of some high-heels he'd bought, looking incongruous as we were otherwise dressed in jeans and T-shirts. It was hard for us both at first, our calves aching as we used muscles in a way we never normally did and more than once I slipped over with a muttered curse and an embarrassed sigh. Daddy wasn't much better and we had to make sure neither of us walked past anything breakable or sharp. However soon we began to improve and by the end of the fortnight we were walking on them as if we'd been born with high heels on our feet.

We also made sure we did as suggested with the hair removal, moving from razors to waxing, which even if it was a little more painful (as the squeaks which emanated from our bathroom confirmed) it was worth it for the smoothness. I waited until the Thursday before we went to do my balls, both so that I wouldn't have to explain why I was silky smooth to any of the laughing jocks at gym and also because I thought it'd be the most sore and didn't want to go through it more than once. It was painful as I stripped away the hairs, but it was worth it, leaving my sac as bald as a coot, without any messy hair strands which would stick out of my bikini as I was modelling.

The Friday came and I did rush out of school, not even saying goodbye to my buddies. Daddy was waiting in the car and he smiled as I got in, "Ready?"

"Yes," I grinned happily, "You? no regrets?"

"No, for twenty thousand I'm willing to give it a go," he smiled back, before letting it fade a little, "I'm not going to deny I'm not nervous, this isn't something I ever thought I'd be doing."

"Relax and just go with the flow," I said encouragingly.

He gave me a wan smile back, "I wasn't sure what to pack, I know the brochure said all the women's clothes would be provided, but I don't know what we'd be wearing when we go to dinner or when we're not shooting, so I packed our suits and some pants and shirts, as well as some smart shoes."

"Sounds a good idea," I replied, though my reading strongly suggested that they were going to supply clothes not only for the model shoot, but for casual wear as well. I gave Daddy another smile, "I'm sure everything will be okay; they're not expecting us to be experts – that's the whole point of the competition, to show how easy it is for us to go from regular guys to beautiful women."

"I'll be fine," he agreed, "Just nerves. I'm actually kind of looking forward to it, thinking about it over the last few weeks made me realise how much I'm wanting to give it a go."

"Good," I said and settled in for the long drive to the hotel. It was three hours drive, luckily Daddy and I are not only a parent and son, but also best buddies and we could talk for ages – about school and work, about my college plans about music and what was on at the movies, television and books. Normally we'd also talk about girls who I fancied at school and he'd give me some encouragement. not tips as he was as useless as picking up women as I was. I'd hardly seen him with one, since him and Mom had divorced nearly eighteen years ago and whilst they might come over on the weekends when I was at Mom's, that was only once every three or four months as we didn't get on. But this time we avoided the subject as if aware that for the weekend I was the hot teen and he was the gorgeous PILF that everyone desires (parent I'd like to fuck) and that our interests might not be the same as they normally were.

With a stop for something to eat it was past nine and dark by the time we drove into the hotel. It was a large building with its own sizeable grounds with a long drive down a tree lined lane making it near invisible from the highway. The parking lot was busy when we arrived, others must have got their earlier, but it didn't matter as the weekend's activities didn't start until the next morning.

The hotel entrance was as grand as the outside, up a flight of stairs and into a lobby which was elegantly modern. There was more going on than the photo-shoot as we saw signs pointing towards a fitness weekend and an authors retreat, as well as for Sissy Fashionista. We went to reception and Daddy announced us, "Chris and Rick Schama."

The girl nodded, "For Sissy Fashionista?" she asked obviously able to tell from our looks (and Daddy's returning nervousness) and without waiting for a response, was typing in our details. She handed us the keys and asked, "Have you brought luggage?"

As there was a couple of small roller suitcases behind us it was a question she didn't need to ask, but Daddy replied anyway. She gave us a smile, "Would you like to leave it in our secure storeroom? Sissy Fashionista magazine is supplying all you will need for the weekend."

Daddy paused for just a second and then he nodded, as the receptionist typed in the details and printed out a couple of tags for us to tie to the handles. As we were doing that she told us that the magazine had a desk for us to sign in at and they'd show us our rooms. Handing over the suitcase we followed her directions.

It was a medium sized room with a table, behind which sat a middle-aged woman (at least I thought she was, she might have been a sissy); there were a number of advertising stands and posters, all with pictures of fashionably dressed sissies around. A number of people were standing around talking in groups, some men, some women and some I thought could have been sissies, but they were so feminine looking that it was hard to know.

We went over to the dress and the woman smiled. Her voice was deep as she said, "Welcome, your names please."

As my Daddy was having a very quick attack of nervous silence I responded and gave them, "Rick Schama and my Daddy, Chris."

"Pleased to meet you," said Daddy getting his voice back.

She smiled again and quickly looked down the list in front of her, "Brandi," she called.

A young woman in a tight vest, which showed enough of her cleavage to show her bosom was real, broke away from the conversation she was having and came over. The receptionist said, "Rick and Chris Schama."

"Thanks Dave," Brandi said, her voice high-pitched enough to confirm she was a real woman. I glanced at Dave, marvelling at how well he was made up that I hadn't been sure he was a man until Brandi had given his name. I quickly turned back to her, "Come I'll show you your room," she trilled, leading us out of the room and down the corridor. "Rick and Chris, I like those names, but can I call you Ricki and Chrissie, they sound much more feminine and will put you in the mood."

"Yes," Daddy agreed and I nodded as well.

"Good," Brandi continued, "I should introduce myself, Brandi McVeigh. I'm your personal stylist and assistant for the weekend, it's my role to work with you to make you look and feel your best – but you both look like naturals, so that's going to be easy." We both gave a smile, reassured by her bubbly and friendly demeanour. She continued to chat, telling about what styles she thought we might like to look at and what make-up colouring would match our reflection. "You're both shaved? That's good, nothing is worse on a sissy than some chest hair – it really spoils the effect." She stopped at our door and let Daddy unlock it with his card, before following us in. "I hope you like the room," she said.

It was much larger than I expected, with two small double beds as well as large vanity desk with a long mirror and two stools. There were the normal amenities as well, a television and wardrobe and cupboards, a window which looked out onto the grounds (though it was too dark to see anything). I wandered through into a large bathroom, with a mirror which was wide enough that two people could stand over the sink at once to pluck their eyebrows. Brandi followed myself and Daddy round as we had a look, grinning as she could tell from our coos and pointing that we thought it was perfect.

We returned to the main room and Brandi pushed two sheets of typed paper towards us with pen. "This is a nudity clause. Tomorrow when the photographers are shooting your transformation, they may take some shots of you naked or semi-clothed, nothing explicit, but we want to make sure we have your permission to publish them. Also some of the shots on Sunday for your modelling might be a risqué, though that really is up to you – it won't affect the judging."

This had all been described to us in the supporting material so neither of us had any worries about signing (or if Daddy did he still did it anyway). Brandi grinned, "Could Ricki just sign at the bottom to show he's over eighteen."

"Just," I said, my birthday having been only three weeks before. I grinned and signed, passing the papers back to Brandi.

"Okay, let me have a quick look at you again, properly, stand side by side." We did as she asked and she looked us up and down professionally, "Good, you're both about the same height that makes it easier. Slender as well, let's see your stomach – good, they're flat but no muscle development. Wow you really are making it easy on a girl. Your hair is just the right length as well, I can really do something with that. Could you pout your lips – wow, you've both been practising, that's really sexy, the photographers are going to love you too." We blushed, as she continued to inspect us, going round and round in a circle and commenting and complimenting everything from our eyelashes "they're just right for extensions" to our butts, "so round".

Eventually she finished and sat us down on the beds, "I've already got some great ideas to share with you," she trilled. "It'll be an early start tomorrow, so I'll be at your door at seven with the photographer."

"Do you want us all ready?" I asked.

"Just in the clothes you're wearing so we can get some before shots, don't worry about breakfast I'll bring a few pastries which should keep you going," she said. She then added, "If you look under your pillows you'll find a surprise."

We did so immediately, both of us pulling out a knee length nightdress and a pair of small silky panties. Brandi grinned, "This should help put you both in the mood for tomorrow and help you get a good night's sleep; it's the secret of modelling – relax the night before so you come in full and ready the next day."

We nodded and placed the nightdresses beside us. Brandi stood up, "Okay I'll see you at seven."

"Yes," Daddy and I chorused as she left.

When she'd shut the door we looked at each other, "I'm feeling excited for tomorrow," Daddy said, "Nervous as well, but looking forward to being feminised with you."

"Me as well," I agreed. "Should we do something tonight, go for a walk or perhaps look if there's a pool table."

I didn't want to, I wanted to try my new nightdress out and see how it felt and looked. So I was relieved when Daddy shook his head, "If we're going to need to be up and dressed by seven we need to get to bed early. I'm just going to get washed, then you do." He went into the bathroom, leaving me disappointed that he'd left his nightdress on the bed. When he came out, drying his face with a towel and wearing just his boxer shorts I followed him in, but I took my nightdress and panties with me.

My teeth cleaned and face washed I slipped out of my male pants, top and underwear and into the nightdress. It felt so lovely against my skin and I gave a little twirl and prance in front of the mirror, thinking how lovely it looked and how it fitted me perfectly. I imagined how I'd look when I had make-up on and had my hair styled. It was an appealing thought. I slipped the panties on next, feeling the cotton rubbing against my four and half inch dick. It went hard at the cotton, luckily causing so little a bump it wasn't noticeable on the loose nightdress. They did feel good, even though they were tighter than my normal boxers, it felt lovely to be constrained.

I took a deep breath before opening the door, so Daddy could see me for the first time as a teenage girl. "How do I look?" we both said in unison and immediately laughed. As I'd come out of the bathroom Daddy had been standing in front of the full length mirror, wearing his own nightdress, and twisting round to admire it.

"You look really good," I said and he did. He was smiling as much as I'd ever seen him do, looking relaxed and not at all nervous. It suited him as well, slender and with his hair down to the bottom of his neck he looked like a hot mom, rather than a Daddy and I was sure that once he was done-up tomorrow he'd been turning some heads.

"You as well," he replied, appraising me. "I bet any guy who sees you will be after you like flies to honey." He blushed, "Or not guys, girls."

"I think guys," I replied. I'd never felt gay, I still didn't feel gay, but I was feeling like I was becoming womanly for the weekend, and women, especially young teen women, liked guys.

Daddy nodded his acknowledgement of my comment, then confirmed he felt the same, "I hope I can turn some of these heads at the same time."

"You will," I agreed.

-

After we got into bed and switched off the lights we were both too ramped up to sleep, so we talked for a little while, both of us wondering what the next day would bring and looking forward to it. Even when we decided to stop and try for sleep, it wouldn't come, as I felt as excited as I had been on Christmas Eve when I was ten. It must have been after one by the time I eventually managed it, but despite that I woke up energised and eager, getting out of bed even as the alarm went. Daddy was doing the same and after cleaning our teeth and folding up our nightdresses and panties, we got dressed into our male clothes – both aware we'd soon be changing out of them again.

If it was not seven on the dot when Brandi knocked on our door it was as near as made no difference. She wasn't alone, following her in was squared jaw photographer, "Ron," he said introducing himself and shaking our hands as men do.

"And this is Harry," said Brandi gesturing at a sissy in his twenties and "Melanie," this time pointing to a real blonde woman. "They're my assistants for the day."

"You ready to begin?" Ron asked.

"Ron will be your main photographer for the day, but some others might take a few shots as well," Brandi explained. "We need one of you before, so we can see the transformation."

"Can you stand side by side, really close. Yes against that wall so we don't having anything distracting in the background," Ron instructed. "Right Chris, Chrissie... you put your arm round Ricki's waist and pull him close. Ricki you do the same, you're not just Daddy and son, you're best friends forever. That's right - smile." He snapped away, slightly adjusting our poses, so that we held each other higher or lower or turned our head so that we looking at each other and not him. Eventually he stepped back. "That's the prep shot done, if it's okay I'll just hang around and take shots whenever they present themselves, don't worry about posing, just relax and pretend I'm not here."

"Okay Chrissie, Ricki, why don't you get out of those ugly men clothes and we can start your feminisation." We nodded and started to move to the bathroom as everyone else seemed to be staying put. Brandi giggled and shook her head, "You can get undressed her and into the hotel robes, you can turn your back if you're shy."

I'd got undressed in public before, but it felt different doing it in the swimming pool or gym with as a guy with bunch of other guys, than stripping in front of others as I was made into a woman. I turned my back and began to undress. Daddy did the same, but he was grinning happily, looking relaxed. He gave me a quick look and winked, smiling. It made me feel better and I swiftly slid out of my male clothes, not worrying that I was being watched and nor Ron was taking photographs.