| Subject: The Pandemic |
Author:
 LittleEric
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Date Posted: 07:44:05 01/01/22 Sat
In reply to:
TheMod
's message, "FICTION DEPT" on 12:54:05 11/10/21 Wed
Billy Thurston sat astride the wooden rocking horse his mom had bought for him last Christmas. "Mommy, it’s the bestest, best Christmas present I’ve ever had." He said, giving her a great big hug.
The fresh-faced Billy was sixteen, Yet he acted more like a boy of five, since his mother had bought him the rocking horse. No one could understand why he had gone through some strange age regression, nor could they understand his predisposition for wearing such childish sissy clothing. Only one person knew that and she was his mother who felt an irresistible urge to buy them.
Of course normal schooling was out of the question, so his mommy had him home schooled by hiring a tutor by the name of Mrs Ewing. Billy’s teacher at Boreletti High School was Mr Jeff Hunter. He was very fond of Billy and called at his home occasionally to see how he was getting on. The last time Billy was in class, Mr Hunter was standing at his desk when he saw a pool of liquid under Billy’s desk. He had wet himself, it was here he began to realize what it was he couldn’t put his finger on. His own son Tom was like Billy in many ways. He too had began to wet his pants and like Billy, Tom had also began to exhibit certain feminine traits. Stranger still, Tom was alright until Mr Hunter bought him a rocking horse.
When Mr Hunter confided in a colleague about the change in Tom, she advised him to take him to see the family physician who referred him to Miss Jean Walton, a child psychologist.
oOo
“You see Mr Hunter, you’re not the first father I’ve had in here with the same symptoms as Tom. It would appear there are others very much like him and I dare say there are much more, this is only the tip of the iceberg.
“Indeed Tom’s case was one of many Miss Walton had seen that had similarities to his. She asked Mr Hunter a lot of questions, such as what he was like before he noticed the change in him. Then she asked him about his academic ability and learned how much his grades had slipped so rapidly.
“I need to carry out two tests on Tom, one of which is of a delicate nature. Do you give your consent to these tests?” Mr Hunter nodded.
Miss Walton proceeded with the first test, which was to test his IQ.
At the end of the test, Miss Walton told Mr Hunter that Tom’s test had revealed he now had the mental age of a three-year-old. Mr Hunter couldn’t believe it, Tom was in his mid-teens, how on earth could his mind have regressed to that of a toddler. A few months ago he was getting good grades. Straight As in the core subjects of math, English and geography amongst others. No wonder he was now doing so badly at school.
“Now to the second test, which as I said is very delicate.”
A nurse by the name of Mary Elliot came in and took Tom into another room. Through a two-way mirror in Miss Walton’s room she and Mr Hunter observed Mary as she took off all of Tom’s clothing. Then she took him to a screen, which she pulled to one side to reveal a boy mannequin wearing a pair white frilly ankle socks and a pair of blue Mary Jane shoes. The mannequin also wore a pink satin frilly frock with a sash attached to it, which was tied in a bow at the back. Mary went over to it and lifted the skirt of the frock to reveal a couple of silk taffeta petticoats and under these were a pair of pink silk panties.
As soon as Tom saw the dress and the mannequin wearing it, his member rapidly rose from vertical to horizontal. “I want it, I want it,” he cried out, “I want to wear it.”
“What about these?” asked Mary.
She pulled back another screen. Here Tom saw another mannequin wearing a school uniform of blouse, plaid skirt, a pair of knee-length socks and a pair of black shoes. “Wouldn’t you like to wear these instead?”
When Tom saw the items, his member began to droop.
“NO,” he shouted while jumping up and down, “I want to wear the frock, I want the frock, it’s so frilly and girly, please can I wear it?”
Mary told Tom he could wear the pink frilly frock, provided she could give him a spanking.
“Oh yes, please give me a spanking, I want a spanking and I want to wear that frock, I’ll do anything to wear it, anything.”
Mary took Tom by the arm and led him to a chair, which she’d placed directly in front of the mannequin wearing the frock he so badly wanted to wear – she sat down and then he told Tom to lie face down across her lap facing the mannequin.
Tom had often been spanked by his father, but the spanking he received from him was nothing compared with the one he was getting from Mary.
“Wibble-wobble-wibble-wobble, jelly on a plate,” sang Mary as she brought her hand down on the buttocks of Tom’s pert little bottom. The more Mary’s hand came down on them, the more rosy this bottom’s cheeks were becoming. By the end of Tom’s spanking they looked decidedly cherry red.
Miss Walton pressed a button on the intercom.
“Thank you nurse, we’ve seen enough. Would you be so good enough has to have Tom redressed, I would like to have a word with his father before he joins us.”
“What about the frock, Miss Walton?”
Just put him in the clothes he came in, will you nurse?”
Mary let the wailing Tom off his knee, and then she proceeded to dress him. Sobbing, Tom said, “you told me I could wear the frock after I’d been spanked.”
“I lied,” said Mary grinning as she finished dressing him.
Tom then had a tantrum, he shouted and shouted while stamping his left foot heavily on the floor.
Grabbing him by the arm, Mary took him back to the chair and gave him another spanking.
"There," said Miss Walton, we now know Tom's a sissy."
"How can you discern that?"
"it's easy Mr Hunter you saw how he reacted to the clothing stimuli. He got real excited when he saw the first mannequin wearing the frilly dress, yet he lost all his excitement when he saw the one wearing the school uniform. You see Mr Hunter sissies just love anything frilly like that dress."
Miss Walton told him, that over the last few months she had seen countless numbers of boys like Tom and she felt she would see many more.
“You see Mr Hunter, there seems to be a pandemic amongst certain boys like Tom, all exhibiting the same kind of traits as him. They too had begun to do badly at school and had similar wetting problems to what Tom now has. Their IQ tests showed their mental age had regressed in years to that of a child of about three-years-old, I needed to know if Tom is a sissy. What you and I saw confirmed to me that he’s a sissy. Very much like all the other boys I’ve seen recently.
“You should now start to treat Tom not as your son, but as your sissy son. It’ll be better for him in the long run, he could never go back to being the boy he once was. You should think of getting rid of all his boy clothes– replace these with clothes more befitting a girl of about three years, no let’s be generous, let’s make that six. Sissies prefer to wear clothes that are silky and very, very frilly so get him clothes of this type.
“You must also think about the disposing of his boyhood possessions. Try to cultivate an interest in him for stuffed animals. You should also think about converting his bedroom into a nursery, with a crib rather than a bed. But more importantly – as he’s started to wet himself more frequently – then having him in dresses will make it easier for you to change his diaper. That reminds me don’t forget to buy him a pacifier when you go shopping for his diapers
“One final point, at some time ask Tom what he feels when he’s wearing his girlie clothes. All sissies get a kind of thrill when they start to wear frilly girly clothes for the first time. He’s bound to want to play with himself, so I would recommend that you put mittens on his hands to prevent this.”
A week after their visit to Miss Walton, Mr Hunter saw his now be-frocked sissy son sitting somewhat crestfallen on his beloved rocking horse, in what was now his nursery. His childish mind trying to comprehend why he’d been rapidly changed from a boy of sixteen to that of a six-year-old girl. Pulling back the skirt of his silken frock he could see the plastic pants under which was the diaper he was wearing.
“How pathetic you look my dearest silly sissy Tom, said his father whom Tom now called him daddy, looking into his lovely blue eyes, Tom looked so happy as he rocked to-and-fro on the horse. On it was a dispenser of pacifier wipes together with his pacifier. Taking a wipe from the dispenser Mr Hunter gave the pacifier a wipe.
“Open wide.” Tom did as he was told. He began sucking on the pacifier as soon as the pink teat was between his teeth.
“You know Tom I can’t keep on calling you Tom, now that I know you’re a sissy. Now what can I call you? I know, I’ll call you Bonny, Bonny Hunter, I like that. Bonny you don’t know how girlie you look in your silky things, maybe I should buy you a wig and some ribbons to put on it.”
A torrent tears began to flow down Bonny’s cheeks. Out of the corner of his mouth Mr Hunter saw he was beginning to drool. He went to a drawer for a bib to protect the bodice of his shimmering satin frock from the slaver now dribbling down his chin. He then took the pacifier out of Bonny’s mouth and gave it another wipe and then reinserted it into his mouth.
“Tell me Bonny, when you look at yourself in the mirror, do you get a funny feeling in your member. He nodded. Do you like those feelings Bonny and do they give you a thrill? Again he nodded. Mr Hunter clapped his hands with delight. “Oh Bonny! You are a sissy after all.”
He could hardly contain his excitement, and felt the need to speak to Miss Walton.
“Tommy’s, I mean Bonny as I now call him is a sissy, Bonny’s a sissy, Bonny’s a sissy, I have a sissy son,” he told Miss Walton.
“Oh I am pleased,” said Miss Walton at the other end of the telephone, “you sound very pleased.”
“I am, I always wanted a daughter, I never in my wildest dreams did I expect to have a sissy son.” You see Angela my wife died during childbirth, so did her newly born daughter.”
“It’s very strange Mr Hunter, nobody in my profession seems to know how it this pandemic started, at first it was confined to this area, now it seems to have spread nationwide. I’ve even heard of cases popping up in England and the rest of Europe if not the world. What’s more intriguing is, it only affects adolescent boys over sixteen.”
oOo
One night Mr Hunter heard a voice coming from the nursery. He went to it and found Bonny sitting on the rocking horse, while talking to it.
“This is your last ride Bonny, I’ll be leaving soon, and when you get off I don’t want any tears, all I ask is for you to be a good little sissy boy for your daddy, will you promise me that?”
“I will, I promise.”
“Now get off and stand back as my time has come for me to go.”
“But why, and where are you going?” Bonny wanted to know.
“Why back to the shop where your daddy bought me, my job here is done. Like countless other daddies and mommies, all of them got what they really wanted, a real living sissy son.”
Tears began to flow down Bonny’s cheeks.
“There'll be none of that, I wont have it,” said the horse. “Now give me a big smile.” Bonny sniffed and then he gave the horse the widest smile he could make.
The horse whinnied and then disappeared right in front of Bonny and his father.
Like Bonny, Mr Hunter felt a lump come into his throat, both stood there hugging each other, looking at an empty space in the bedroom where the horse had once stood and rocked. Bonny bent down and retrieved the dispenser of pacifier wipes from the floor, then he picked up his pacifier and gave it to his daddy. He wiped it. As soon as it was in his mouth Bonny began sucking on the teat.
Bonny slept with his daddy that night, his dreams were wooden equine ones. Next morning he awoke with a wet diaper, which his daddy changed for him. In the days to come Bonny began to forget about the horse, but not the fact that he was still a sissy boy.
oOo
One fine day a lady by the name of Gwen Owen gravitated towards the toyshop on the High Street. In the window she saw a rocking horse. Telepathically, it began talking to her and said, “Go on, buy me for your son, you know you want to.”
Robert was over the moon with it. The moment he sat on the horse, he began to have the funniest feeling he had ever had. He thought of girlie things and how much he desperately wanted to wear a frock. Not any frock, but a nice silky frock that his friend Michael had started to wear. He too had been given a rocking horse by his mommy.
As he was rocking on the horse, it began to speak to him.
“Hello Robert, my name is Hansel, I was captured along with my sister Gretel by an evil toymaker witch who turned me into a rocking horse, then she cast a spell on me and said any boy that ever sat on me would be turned into a sissy. It was your friend Michael who told me about you. He asked if I would make you a sissy too, so he would have a sissy to play with.
“I couldn’t refuse, you see Robert, you have already started on your journey to becoming a sissy. Some of the spell has rubbed off on your mommy who bought me, she doesn’t know it yet, but one day, she’s going to be very happy she now has a sissy son.”
As Robert was rocking away on his horse, he felt a dampness in his jeans. He observed how the warm urine was beginning to create a stain around their fly.
“Mommy,” he cried out. “I've wet myself.”
By the time she had rushed upstairs, the stain on Robert’s jeans had grown. She told him to take them off as well as his underpants. Next she looked in a drawer and found a very large towel, which would do as a makeshift diaper and then she put Robert into it.
Robert looked at his mommy with a crestfallen face, “sorry mommy.” He said sucking his thumb.
“It’s all right sweet pie.” said his mommy hugging him. “I haven’t changed you since you were a baby and look at you now in a makeshift diaper. The only thing that hasn’t changed is your physical age, you’re nearly seventeen and yet you have the mental age of a five year old.”
“Mommy you know Michael’s started to wear frocks, will you get me one to?”
“What’s brought this on?”
So Robert told her the story and of the conversation he had, had with the horse.
“You and your imagination.”
“It’s true,” said a voice in the head of Robert’s mother. It was the horse, talking to her
“Go on Mrs Owen, you know you really want to buy a nice frock for Robert, one with many frills. You’ll regret it if you don’t – by the way while you’re at it – you had better buy him some diapers – baby wipes – a pacifier and a bib as he’s going to need them.
Robert (Katie) and Michael (Brookie) grew up to be very happy sissy boys, their mommies were also very happy. But what about the horse. Well he wasn’t the only one. The toymaker witch who had caught many boys turned them into rocking horses. Each of which had a task to perform and very soon, every boy over the age of sixteen who had been given a rocking horse no matter where in the world he lived, had been turned into a sissy.
The End
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