As your feminization progressed, your mommy, who was also your mistress, wanted to document your developing femininity with a portrait to hang on the wall along side the generations that came before in your line. After all, yours will be the end of said line now that mommy has injected you, the last surviving male heir, with enough estrogen to turn a trailer hitch into breasts. There is no need to have you physically castrated as the chemicals are doing a fine job at removing any traces of viable sperm from your sissy cummies you’re so fond of dribbling as mommy applies her strap-on to your little sissy boipussy. So lift the hem of your dress for your painter and bare those budding breasts so that the contradictions of your body in its present state of flux can can be captured for posterity. Who knows, after he has completed the sitting, mommy may send you home with him for a few weeks in lieu of payment?