Triumph of My Will :: BigCloset Classic :: BigCloset TG Stories <br /> June 2001 to November 2004

A dark story of a boy who is feminized and abused by his sisters.

Triumph of My Will

Part I

By Jasmine

Chapter I: introduction

My life wasn't fair. When something goes bad, people always say that life is not meant to be fair, but there should be reasonable expectations, like a life without pain or misery. Not for me. I am Michael Groves and my story started when I was 12 years old. My older sister, Alexandra was a boxer, but hardly ever took an interest in me. She was 24. My twin sisters, Sally and Sandra, were demon-possessed monsters that must have been spawned from the mouth of hell. They were two 15 year-old sadists that tricked everyone into thinking they were two little angels. I was not a wimp. I was an athlete. I had just gotten a second-degree black belt in tae kwon do, but any time I tried to fight back, my big sister helped them, or the twins ganged up to beat me up.

My father ran away and nobody could find him. My mother was a United States attorney, a federal prosecutor who was prosecuting a dangerous Columbian when she was shot. She had a will that gave guardianship and the entire estate to my big sister if she agreed to take us in. I stayed with my older sister as my legal guardian and she worked all of the time. My two twin sisters bossed me around with my older sister's permission. Alexandra had said four weeks before, "Just do what Sandra says, and you will be fine." Life was pure hell then. I just wanted to graduate high school, go to West Point, join the army as a commissioned officer and have a brilliant career. I wanted to lead hundreds of thousands of soldiers in a great struggle for democracy.

I rarely turned in a history paper that didn't make an "A." The last essay I turned in was "Caesars Gaullic Campaigns and his War Against Vercinggetorix," a ten-page essay detailing his legions, battles, and tactics in great detail. I also wrote a detailed report about the battle of the pyramids in 1798. They weren't essays anyone would expect from a 12 year-old boy. In math I studied algebra II. I was also a brilliant speaker. Every time I gave an oral report, I found that the audience hung on to every word, and applauded for real. The audience was almost entranced by me. My hero was general Douglas MacArthur.

Chapter II:

School was almost over, thank God. It was the last two weeks and it had become gradually worse since my mother died. First, Sandra forced me to go to school with bright pink painted nails. The next week she painted my eyes with eyeliner, eye shadow and mascara. The next week I was afraid that they would go all the way and make me look like a real girl, but I also wondered if that might not better; fully dressed as a girl, I wouldn't stand out as much. The school officials had been concerned about my changes, but my big sister could almost always forced them to back down. She had told the principal, "If he wants to experiment with being a girl, then let him." Now they were going to do my hair and pierce my ears for Monday, along with plucking my eyebrows. I had a sick feeling that it was going to be a miserable, humiliating, and traumatic summer.

I had no interest in being a girl or crossdressing, but it seemed that my sisters wanted another sister and liked to force me into the role. I had a sick feeling where it would lead that summer and I didn't like it at all. But what was I supposed to do?

I used to have a room full of books. I had books from all of the great generals and leaders of the past. I had both copies of Rommels "Infantrie Greift," the original version publish by the third Reich in German and a newer copy printed in America in English. I also had Adolf Hitler's "Mein Kampf" in original German and English. I had two copies of the original German version: one published in 1925 after he was paroled from Landsberg prison, the second volume from 1926.

I learned German and loved the language. I hated Nazism and was revolted by the conduct of the SS. I wanted to understand what had happened and why they did it. I found out the 'what' part, but I never found out why, why a whole nation would submit to such barbarism. Well, I sat in a whole new room since my mother died, all of my books were gone as well as the wallpaper and general look. It looked like a teenage girl's room. I also, to my humiliation, had a vanity with tons of makeup. Man's inhumanity to man will never end, but in this instance it was the girls' inhumanity to a boy. I was respectful to all my sisters and was never a bad brother. I never teased them or tried to upset them. I was nice to them all when my mother lived, so their sadism I didn't understand.

As I sat there reminiscing about the good days in Seattle, where I had lived with my mother, sulking Sandra came in and told me that it was time to go to a salon to get my hair done and ears pierced. It was Sunday; Monday started the last week of school. Monday I would look ridiculous and attract a lot of attention. I wouldn't get hurt; I was the strongest 12 year-old in school and was feared. I wasn't a bully, I just didn't take shit, and most of the other children would realize that my sisters were behind it. My sisters, also, had brutalized them.

I walked meekly to the car with Sandra and Alexandra to get my hair done and my ears pierced. While driving, Sandra said, "When we get in the salon, you'd better not give any indication that you don't want pretty curls or that you don't want to be a girl, or else. Get it, sissy?" I nodded. We found the place and Alexandra went away while Sandra took me in. My sisters had already dealt with me earlier and I was a 12-year-old boy walking into a hair salon with bright long pink fingernails and a full face of makeup. The makeup wasn't overdone, it was just right.

Everyone looked at me. Sandra told the receptionist, "My brother begged me to get his hair done in pretty curls and a perm. After this, he wants his ears pierced." I almost cried and it was hard to stifle the tears, but I remembered the threat.

The receptionist said, "It will be a 10 minute wait. What is his name? This was embarrassing.

Sandra replied, "His name is Michelle Groves". I just sat there dumbfounded. Up to that point, they never called me that. The receptionist smiled at me thinking that I liked it. Then Sandra asked me, "Michelle, how much fun is it being a girl so far?"

I sulked. "Miserable, so far. What was wrong with Michael?"

She said, "He was a dumb boy. I want a sister, so you had better like it, or I will find a boy to show you what it's like to be a real girl."

I shuddered and said, "What are you going to do, find a boy to sexually assault me?" She gave me that evil smile that sent shivers down my spine. The look on my face showed it all. I was truly terrified.

Sandra said, "You look like you don't like this. You had better start." I tried, but I had a feeling of horror and started to sob softly. I couldn't help it. Sooner or later I just knew that Sandra would find a boy for me and I couldn't stop it. Every time she had made a threat to get my compliance, it would end up happening whether I complied or not. The mascara on my face had been a threat to get my nails done. I was a good boy and now I had the pretty face of a girl. I now knew that I could not trust anything my sisters said, unless it was something that I would hate. Before I start to cry, Sandra gently took my hand and led me outside and around the corner.

She said, "Now listen sissy, you will stop crying, or you will scream when you get home." Good way to stop someone from crying. I cried harder and Sandra tried to sooth me by saying, "The boy threat was a bluff. Do you really think I would have my brother raped?"

I nodded, sniffling. "Of course you would; you hate me." She stood there rubbing my hair and holding me close, trying to sooth me.

She said, "You know I don't hate you, Michelle".

I said, "Then let me be Michael."

She said, "You are Michelle for now." Well, I supposed that I could be Michelle for another hour. After several minutes I stopped crying and she led me back inside.

The receptionist said, "He is back. Well, are you ready, Michelle?" I thought resignedly that I had better get used to that name.

I smile back and say, "I am ready."

She led me to a chair and sat me down. She asked me, "Well, how do you want your hair done?" I didn't have the foggiest; if it had been my choice I would have left it alone.

I said, "Ask my sister. I don't know feminine hair styles." I called to her, "Sandra, can you help me?"

She came over and showed the stylist a picture out of her Seventeen Magazine of a really cute girl my age and said, "He begged me to have his hair done this way. Can you style Michelle's hair like this?" It was about the most feminine hairstyle she could find.

The stylist answered, "Well, of course."

My sister said, "I'm going shopping to buy you a few dresses, so be good."

After my sister left, the receptionist kneeled, looked into my face and asked, "Is this what you really want? You look like you were crying."

I thought about this and said the line I'd been drilled with: "I like being a girl and want to be one like nothing I'd ever wanted."

She said, "That sounds like you practiced that line for this occasion and I am not buying it. You look like you were forced into this." I was terrified. My sisters all assured me that if help were coming, that I would not live to see it, that they would kill me for real.

I said, "I didn't practice that line. Whatever would make you say that?"

She said, "You look like you were crying and your eyes look sad. Now, tell me the truth." I got up and ran outside to find my sister. She wasn't anywhere near, so I ran into the nearby clothing store. I didn't see her right away. I ran to the lingerie section and saw her picking out panties. I ran up to her and tapped her shoulder. She was startled and looked at me.

She suddenly looked angry and said, "It doesn't look like anything was done with you hair. Are you trying to get out of it?" I felt stupid. I could have run away or actually gotten help, but I was too cowardly.

I said, "No, she started asking questions, like if I really wanted this done or if you were forcing this on me. I didn't know what to say. I said what you taught me, but she wouldn't buy it and kept asking. I just ran away to find you. Don't leave me again". She understood and decided that we should leave.

Sandra reached into her purse, took out her cell phone and made a call to Alexandra, asking her to come take us home. Sandra knew that it wasn't my fault; it was the nosy hairstylist's, but I wondered if it would make any difference when we got home. Four minutes later, Alexandra's car was there.

She got out and asked, "What's wrong? Is the jerk trying to get out of this?"

Sandra told her, "He said that a hair stylist kept asking him questions about if he really wanted his hair done."

Alexandra said, "We told him what to say if that question were asked and we drilled him."

I said, "She didn't buy it. I was convincing, but I had been crying several minutes before because Sandra threatened to have me raped."

Alexandra gave Sandra a mean look and said, "How could you say that, Sandra and expect him not to cry? We are talking about a horrible sexual violation. Of course he would be upset. You shouldn't have told him our plan. Now, come on and let's get somewhere safer".

Note: TG femdom Rated-R
Read Part 1. 2. 3.