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Are you ready to go “ Down The Sissification Rabbit Hole?” Then read this…
I t’s a rare sissy that isn’t obsessed with having a smooth, silky, feminine body, free from all of that ugly man hair. The easiest way to get rid of hair of course is to just shave it off.
Sounds simple and straightforward enough but there are some obvious and even hidden hurdles that may have to be overcome before you can become hairless, such as…
Fear of social embarrassment; finding time to shave; shaving techniques; frequency and what body parts to start off with. This article will attempt to address all of those sissy shaving issues.
This is such an easy answer; right now, or tomorrow if ‘ right now ’ happens to be too late in the day.
The main reason most novice sissies don’t start shaving is the fear of ridicule and social embarrassment. But like 99 percent of our fears, the akwardness you want to avoid is just a projection into the future about a situation that will most likely never come to pass.
Things are a changin’ baby, and that goes for many girly things that previously were reserved only for card carry members of the fairer sex. Shaving happens to be one of those things.
Shaving of the male legs has long been accepted and done by swimmers, cyclists, triathletes and body builders. Many other professional and non-pro athletes in sports such as football, basketball, hockey, soccer and skiing routinely shave their legs because of the neccessity of having to get parts of their legs taped up.
As a former triathlete, that’s how I got my start with shaving. After I quit competing, I continued to shave because I thought my legs looked better without hair.
I also had a fair amount of sissyness residing inside of my head so that provided me with even more motivation. Sure, I received a comment here and there but it never really bothered me. After all, they were my legs!
Later on, it began to feel weird having no hair below the waist but a normal amount above, so… I started to shave my entire body.
No one (including family members) has ever said much about it, which makes me wonder—why is everyone walking around worrying what others think about them so much? The truth is that people are so immeresed in their own lives that they really don’t care much about yours.
I like what Dr Suess had to say on the subject:
“Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind”
The reality is that nobody is going to think you’re a gay, sissy faggot just because you shave your legs, or even your whole body for that matter. If anyone asks, you simply say “I prefer no hair”, which is the truth. If you can accept yourself, then people will, more-than-likely, accept you.
So, if you’ve been playing the what-will-people-say card as an excuse not to shave… stop it! The time to start shaving is NOW sweetie.
In the shower of course silly. And, since nothing beats the feel of pulling up a silky pair of nylon stockings over freshly shaved legs, then you’ll probably want to begin with your legs, and maybe even go a little bit further up.
Just so you know, TooTimid.com is the perfect place to buy those nylon stockings .
Also, as noted above, shaved legs have become more-or-less mainstream for men. It’s a perfect place to start without garnering any attention to your—for now—secret sissification process.
Yes, becoming a sissy is a process. And shaving, although a sub-set of the more global aspect of sissyness, is a process of its very own.
If you’ve never shaved your legs before, and you’re fairly hairy, then it’s going to be a chore to chop through those virgin shafts of thick, long hair. Using an electric hair clipper or delapitory cream will initially save you a ton of time.
From there, all you will need is a razor and some soap. Like anything else, shaving your legs will take time for you to become good at. The speed and efficiency will come however, sooner than you might think.
Where to stop? I suggest going up to just below the waist, which would obviously include your ass and private parts. Shaving your nut sack and sissy clitty does not really present any special problems; just go slow at first until you get the hang of it.
Being smooth down there will only serve to intensify your feelings of feminity. If you want to stop at the top of the legs for now, and treat your intimate areas as a later part of the sissy shaving process, then that’s perfectly fine too.
The answer to that question depends on how thick your hair is and how fast it grows. Another factor is how far along with the shaving process you happen to be. Let me use myself as an example.
When I first began to shave my legs, I perceived it to be a chore—and treated it as such. I would shoot for once every two weeks, quickly observing that if I went any longer than that, then shaving morphed from a chore into a downright dreaded burden.
It takes a lot longer to shave longer hair!
I eventually shortened my sissy shaving intervals to once per week. What a difference! Believe me princess, it is soooooo much faster to shave when you don’t let your hair grow for more than seven days.
But then I pushed the process (remember that word) of shaving to a completely different level. I now pick up my razor at least two—and sometimes three—times per week. This increase in frequency now enables me to shave twice as fast as my previous once-a-week regimen. An added bonus is that I now get to enjoy a silky smooth body all of the time.
While shaving 3 times a week seems to be optimum for most sissies, your interim may vary. Keep in mind that it may take you a while to get to the point where you feel compelled to shave that often.
Please note that although the frequency chart above shows that shaving this much appears to be in the minority, it’s a reflection of how often genetic girls shave, not sissies.
There are many reasons why a GG may not shave as often as we do. The first is that the hair on their legs is typcially thinner, lighter in color and less dense so they can get away with shaving less.
The second is that sadly, many real women take their femininity for granted and can sometimes get lazy with regards to their personal grooming. Those two reasons don’t apply to you sweetie… you’re better than that!
Although getting to the point where you’re shaving fairly frequently might take some time, reassessing your sissy mindset can speed that time-frame up significantly.
Like I mentioned earlier, while I used to treat my sissy shaving as a chore, I now view it as an anticipated feminine ritual. I actually look forward to the act of shaving, but it goes beyond that… and not simply because it’s so much more efficient to shave on a regular basis.
Although shaving isn’t a permanent method of male to female hair removal, it is the easiest way to be a smooth and sexy sissy—all of the time.
I was constantly asking myself that same question—many times over. So I decided to find out for myself.
In 2019, I bought myself an epiliator and used it for an entire six months. I wound up writing an article about my epilating experience called: The Great Sissy Epilating Experiment of 2019. You might find it interesting.
Are you ready to go “ Down The Sissification Rabbit Hole? ” Then you’ll want to read this…
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video clip wearing my short black satin slip
Me in black tights black panties and black bra
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These might be my favorite heels xx
After we got to the party one of the friends I went with wanted to take photos of me outside on the sidewalk . Sure many people stopped wanting to see the leggy girl in a pink poofy party dress with multi layered petticoats ! Well it's not everyday one can wear such a elaborate dress out so be it !
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Anne looked in the window of the Antiques shop, just about over the shock of seeing those two young lads. She admired a Grandfather clock that stood within the shop, and a beautiful dressing table. She then noticed the shop owner glaring at her from inside. She entered the shop and quite confidently smiled and said ‘Good morning’. The man nodded, and responded with more of a grimace than a smile but replied ‘Good morning’.
‘You have some beautiful pieces of furniture.’ she told him. He grimaced again, and replied ‘Thank you Miss’.
This wasn’t the warmest of welcomes, so she persisted. ‘How rude of me, ‘ she went on. ‘My name is Anne Bradshaw. I’ve just moved in to the property on Cross Keys Crescent with my son David.’
‘Oh, I see.’ He rather coldly said. ‘And is your son a proper boy?’ He strangely asked.
‘I beg your pardon?’ she asked him quite abruptly, as she was finding him rather indignant.
‘I mean, he dresses normally?’ He asked her again.
‘What are you implying?’ She asked again, this time round she was quite annoyed.
‘I’m sorry’. He told her. ‘But this Village isn’t what it used to be’. He said.
‘What do you mean?’ Anne asked, now feeling somewhat nervous.
‘Oh, not since those wretched Scarlett sisters took the place over. They live up in the Mansion on the Hill Top. More money than sense.’ He said.
‘But what has that got to do with my son?’ she asked him.
‘You haven’t seen anything unusual yet?’ He asked her.
Not really’. She replied ‘Oh, apart from two young lads dressed up as girls. Obviously going to some kind of fancy dress party. They were dressed, you know, way over the top, in frilly dresses, and loads of make up. But nothing else I would call unusual..’ She told him.
‘Believe me Miss’, he told her. ‘They were not going to a fancy dress party. They dress like that all the time. They are the Grayling twins. Christopher and Michael.’
‘Oh right’, she said. ‘Well that is rather peculiar perhaps. And they looked ridiculous. Rather inappropriate I thought for a village like this.’ She said.
Believe me Miss’. The shopkeeper told her. ‘They all dress like that. All the boys in this village.’
Anne studied the man carefully. He was sounding like some nut, she thought to herself. But now she was curious. ‘Tell me more.’ She asked him.
The following morning Anne decided to leave David in bed, and have a ride out to check out their new surroundings a little better. Perhaps call in at the little shops on the main street and introduce herself. She didn’t want to be a stranger for long. She had tried to wake David, but mornings were not his best time, and he’d rather grumpily pulled his duvet over his head. She had tip-toed out of his bedroom and left. As she drove through the village she felt a sense of great comfort. ‘It’s such a beautiful little place.’ she said to herself. She was now sure that both she and David would be very happy here. But as she turned her car on to the Main Street she saw something which made her do a double take. Thankfully she was parking up outside the Antiques store, or she may have bumped the car. She looked again , and couldn’t quite believe her eyes. She saw what appeared to be two young teenage boys, dressed in frilly dresses, heels and wearing ribbons, and stockings, kissing one another. There was no doubt they were males, as their dresses were so short revealing bulging panties. Anne put her hand to her mouth, at first quite shocked, but then couldn’t help but laugh. The boys then began walking past her car, as Anne looked on, and they walked in such an over the top mincing fashion, she couldn’t help but guffaw. Obviously, thought Anne, they must be attending some kind of Fancy Dress ball. Nevertheless it was possibly the last thing she expected to see in such a quiet little village such as this. ‘How short were their dresses?’ She mused to herself. ‘My God you could see everything.’ She pulled herself together and got out of her car. She then watched the two boys wiggle and mince out of sight.
‘All I want is for you to be happy David’ she told her son. However, Anne was slightly concerned as David had ambitions to enlist at a Naval College down in Portsmouth. He’d finished sitting his A Levels and was now awaiting a good set of results so he could apply. She had attempted to talk him out of it. Many times. But David had insisted he did need to find his own way in life eventually. ‘But David you will need nor want for nothing’, she had told him. ‘I will put at least £50 million pounds in your bank account as soon as you turn 18. I will buy you a house, a car, anything you want.’ But he bemoaned his Mother’s pleas. ‘Mum, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life doing nothing. I need a challenge and I need to strive for something. I’ve always wanted to have a career at sea.’
Of course Anne would keep trying to dissuade him whenever the subject came up, but she feared she would eventually lose him to the Navy. That first night in their new home, Anne laid awake worrying about David. All she wanted to do was pamper him, spoil him, protect him at all costs. ‘My God!’ she said to herself, ‘I would do anything to keep him here. Anything’.
The house was perfect. Idyllic. Just right for the pair of them. A Mother completely devoted to her son. She had decided he would want for nothing. She had been fortunate. Her Grandfather had recently passed away. The Owner of an International Communications business, her ageing father having taken over, he left an estimated fortune of £27 billion pounds. Anne had inherited a vast amount of money. Over £150 million. She could have afforded to buy a palace, or two, but she knew a house of this size was manageable, with five bedrooms, four bathrooms and ample sized rooms downstairs. She’d spent a fortune on it, having employed the services of landscape gardeners and interior designers. She wanted everything to be just perfect for her son.
David had just turned 17. Although he looked much younger. He could easily have passed for 14. His father had often accused her of spoiling him, pampering him. ‘He’s more like a girl than a boy’, he would say in his usual snide fashion. His father had come sniffing around again when he’d heard about the inheritance. Anne had sent him packing. David hated his father. He only had eyes for his Mother whom he idolised. It was mutual. Anne had spent hundreds thousands of pounds on designing David’s bedroom. And when David entered the house for the first time he was more than impressed with it, and upon entering his bedroom, his Mum stood behind him and gently placed her palms over his eyes, before slowly revealing his luxurious new room.
When Anne Bradshaw arrived in Girdleton with her son David, she was more than relieved. The divorce had been lengthy and complicated, and now she could devote all of her time to her precious boy. She had wanted them both to escape to the countryside, away from the madding crowds of the city. Some where quiet, quaint, picturesque. Girdleton had fitted the bill perfectly. It was your typical picture postcard English village; surrounded by lush meadows, woodland and rolling hills. The main street had a row of little shops, including a Post Office, a bakers, and an Antique store. Then a row of thatched roof cottages, as you turned the bend to the church, with its square bell tower and small unassuming graveyard. Then a little further on, the hub of the village. The village green, with small duck pond, and the village pub, The Stuffed Mallard overlooking it. Up Cox’s Hill, and Anne turned left and on to Cross Keys Crescent, there was the lovely house she had bought for them both.
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