Janice was a very special kind of girl.

She’d known for a very long time that she wasn’t like the other boys in school. When the boys teased the girls and made them cry, poor Jack (she wouldn’t be Janice for another few years) would defend them. She wanted to play house, and cook and clean for fun. The boys would run and play in the dirt, and poor sad Jack would hover at the edges of the circles of girls, wishing he could paint his nails and share lip gloss with them.

In college, Janice learned about human sexuality.

It was, to say the least, an eye opening experience. She discovered trans people, and queer people and found that there were words to describe her inner landscape. And yet she was still too frightened and ashamed to embrace those words for herself. Until one day, in a fit of boredom and curiosity, she signed up for an online community, and found a whole new world.

It was after college, when she was ‘grown’ and ‘responsible’, that Janice discovered who she really was.

She found the strength and courage to start to use those words for herself. Sissy, crossdresser, panty boi and even the dreaded fag. Words that before could make her question herself and her self worth became banners to fly high and proud. And in this community she found someone to help her, to guide her, to bring her to the fullness of herself. She found her Mistress.

Janice found Me.

And like a foundling searching for a home, she nestled into my arms and heart. My sweet Janice, so uncertain and shy, but brimming with such potential! I could see what she would become, how she could bloom and blossom into a confident, assured, sexy woman. So of course, I helped her, guided her, trained her. I provided her with lessons and tests and showed her how to be the perfect sissy.