The New Trainee A True Story Part III
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Sissytown free porn video
SISSYTOWN by Throne
"This place is SO dull," Jerry complained histrionically, shaking his head
and clenching his fists, as if the banality of Blandings Landing had
driven him to the edge of rage. "Tell me about it," his buddy Hank said
in angry agreement. "I would go along with ANYTHING if we could just have
a little excitement." The two teens were sitting on a bench in the
idyllic town square, where the grass was the perfect length and neatly
planted flower beds had bloomed into Springtime colors. They began
discussing the possibility of disrupting the girls who were always playing
basketball at this time on the weekend. Standing behind them was a
stranger, a slender woman who appeared middle aged, yet whose eyes
glittered with youth... and mischief. She wore a long-sleeved white
blouse with a high lace collar, an ankle length skirt, and high-buttoned
shoes. She had pulled up her long brown hair and arranged it in a neat
bun at the back of her well-proportioned head. She smiled impishly as the
boys went on with their fuming tirade. As she listened to them enumerate
the shortcomings of their home town, as well as what sorts of nastiness
they might commit to liven up their afternoon, she reached into a deep
pocket in her skirt and produced a beautifully crafted amulet from which
hung a fine chain. As she slipped it over her graceful neck she quietly
uttered words in a strange language, closed her eyes, took a deep breath
and said, in English, "Let it be, let it be."
Jerry flinched. Hank slapped the back of his neck, as if he had felt a
mosquito there. "Darn bugs." "Yeah," his friend said. "If they get
worse, you know who we'll have to call?" "No. Who?" "The SWAT team."
They chuckled at the bad pun. Eager to cause some kind of trouble, they
began to stroll. Hank was two steps behind and, as he watched Jerry, he
came to a complete stop. "Uh, Jer. Why are you walking that way?" The
other turned to him. "What way? And why are you standing THAT way?"
Hank looked at himself and realized he had one hand on his thigh and the
other on his cheek, a hip cocked to the side. He made himself straighten
up and threw back his shoulders before stuffing his hands into the pockets
of his jeans. Jerry moved toward him and suddenly froze because he had
been taking mincing steps, swishing his narrow pelvis, and elevating his
lower arms a bit, with his wrists limp. "What the...?"
They both looked around to see if they had been observed. There was some
old broad nearby but she was busy fussy with her necklace or whatever it
was. They strolled away, consciously making an effort not to repeat that
unmanly body language, went to the drugstore and sat in one of the booths.
Miranda, a cute waitress who was a few years older than them, came over to
take their order. Jerry, always eager to impress her, looked her right in
the eyes and squealed, "Ohhh, I want one of those vanilla ice cream sodas.
With lots of whipped cream." He giggled girlishly before he gushed, "And
a cherry on top." He clapped his hand over his mouth and sat there, eyes
wide with shock. Miranda wasn't sure what they were playing at, but it
amused her. She raised her narrow eyebrows at Hank and asked, "And what
would you like?" He tugged at his earlobe, caught himself doing it, and
put his hand under the table. "I'd like..." His voice was a whisper.
"I'll have... a banana split with... no... that would be about a million
calories. I don't want a tummy bulge. And my skin..." He bit his lips.
Why was he talking that way? He managed to tell her, "Just cancel that
and bring me... a glass of pink lemonade and one of those darling
strawberry cupcakes."
The guys sat there, stunned at their own behavior. Several girls entered,
fresh from soccer practice. As they went by, Miranda was bringing the
order. She had put a paper umbrella in Hank's beverage, a pink one of
course. The girls paused alongside the table and peered down at the boys,
who both blushed, sensing that they must be assuming girlish postures
again, which in fact they were. "Well," the tallest girl said. "I know
you two are always together, and now I can see why. Maybe you should hang
around the football field. The team is practicing and you might attract
some big hunks." The other girls tittered and then they went to sit a one
of the larger tables. Jerry and Hank consumed their orders silently,
mystified by the way they were acting. At last Jerry said, "You know, we
should go to the field like she said, but just to show her we're not
interested in those guys." "Really," Hank seconded. "We could watch them
scrimmage and just not show any interest at all in their bodies." "Right.
We're not interested in dudes in tight pants, snug tops, and shoulder
pads." "Pooh on that. Talk about UNflattering." "So true. You'd never
catch me in one of those awful helmets." All at once they heard
themselves sounding like a couple of catty boy-bitches. WHAT was going
on?
***
Meanwhile, George Frumpton was slumped in his lounger (authentic
leatherette), a beer clutched in his hand, watching yet another sports
program. His wife Trish was standing in the doorway, eyeing the familiar
scene disapprovingly. She was a desirable woman but couldn't distract him
from the TV once he had his games on. A commercial break began and the
first commercial was for bras from Valerie's Passion, the nationwide
lingerie company. George shifted his bottom on the seat and said, "You
know, they should have nice things for men to wear under their clothes,
too. I mean, something other than ordinary boxers and T-shirts." His
wife put herself alongside him. She said, "Remember I got you that three-
pack of jockey shorts, the colorful ones that you've never worn. And the
matching sleeveless tops. You'd look good in them, with your trim
figure." "Ohhh," he breathed out, "do you think so?" "Sure. We could
try them on you. After your show." "You know, I'm not as interested in
this one as I thought I would be. I could get a shower and then we could
do a sort of fashion show."
She eyed him skeptically and offered, "And I could trim your hair a
little." He pouted and said, "But I don't want it real short. Just
neaten it up a bit." Still not understanding his change in demeanor, but
preferring even this to his usual submersion in sports, she told him that
would be fine. He turned off the set and hurried to the bathroom, where
he ran a hot shower, got under it, and used all of his wife's products to
pamper his skin and leave it smelling sweet. George had almost no body
hair and with his modest build -- but mostly because he was suddenly
striking feminine poses -- he appeared very different than usual.
Something about the unexplained change intrigued his wife. She said,
choosing her words carefully, "First we can give you a new look and then
maybe we'll try some new games in the bedroom." He clasped his hands in
front of his chest and said, "Oh, Trish, you sound so masterful. Maybe
you could make some... suggestions." "Sure," she told him, a bit dazed by
it all. "But first let's get you into those new underthings." "Whatever
you say, Ma'am."
Twenty minutes later he was wearing a matching lemon-hued top and bottom,
and his thick wavy hair had been snipped here in there, just enough to
shape it somewhat, and to make it fall over his forehead. He couldn't
seem to stop touching it, admiring himself in the vanity mirror and
fingering his wife's cosmetics. She started to feel daring and said, her
tone imperious, "You shouldn't be fussing with make-up. Maybe it would
help you to remember that, if I made you wear some of it." George
hesitated. Her suggestion pulled him partway out of the strange trance
into which he had fallen. But then he reverted to his very un-George-like
state, reached for a tube of flaming red lipstick, and said, "I've been
bad and need to be taught a lesson." Trish, with the possibility of some
new and, to her, wildly exciting changes in their love life, snapped at
him, "Yes, you HAVE been naughty and need to be punished. First I'll make
you look like a girly boy and then I'll treat you like one." "Oh, oh,
oh," he piped in delight, "I feel so helpless." She cupped his smooth,
recently shaved chin in her hand and brought the lipstick to his mouth.
"Yes," she said thoughtfully, "I'm going to turn you into my male lesbian,
a real candy ass who makes me happy in bed and never does anything about
his own needs."
***
Across town at the gym, Bob Newirth was working out on one of the lifting
machines. He wasn't using much weight but still thought he looked
impressive, with his form denuded of hair and oiled, like some
professional body builder. He imagined that all the women were drooling
over him, though they were more interested in their own exercise programs.
He should have gotten their message after every one of them who he tried
to take out rejected him. But Bob's ego was bigger than his brain. So
after he finished ten reps, straining with the final five, he tried to
regain control of his breathing as he strode across the gym, seemingly to
use the water fountain, but really to show off the less-than-impressive
picture he presented. This was the umpteenth time these females had seen
one of his unwanted displays. They all wished something would happen to
change his unrealistic view of himself. As that thought occupied every
the mind of every woman present, Bob suddenly stopped and turned toward a
currently vacant corner of the room. There was equipment there, but it
was for the youth class, which was made up of girls from the nearby dance
school. With everyone's attention on him, he bent from the waist, arms
extended to the sides, chin tilted upward. His hands descended slowly and
closed on either side of a colorful beach ball. As he straightened, he
pursed his lips and fluttered his eyelashes. Then he began to walk in a
wide circle, on his toes, the ball raised above his head, taking graceful
steps.
The watchers made an effort not to laugh. Oblivious to them, he began to
perform sinuous movements, dancing in place to music only he could hear,
keeping that ball in motion. Bob switched to a hip-wiggling walk and
several onlookers giggled, but he didn't hear them. A couple guys entered
the gym and joined the others in trying to figure out what was going on.
As they smirked and shook their heads, the dancing man set down the ball
and rummaged through a box of costume add-ons. He selected a sparkly
tiara and put it on his head, even though it was too small. Then he
picked an electric blue, feathered boa and wrapped it around his neck
before he went back to performing his overly feminine movements. Bob
stuck his butt out at the guys and rotated it slowly. They grimaced at
the obvious sexual implications. But two other men had entered after them
and they were interested. The pair were burly guys, with hairy bodies and
thick, closely cropped beards. They wore T-shirts, jeans and motorcycle
boots, as well as leather vests. It was a small town, there was only one
gym, and these two wanted to work out a few times a week. They didn't
mind the others and no one minded them. It was a fairly liberal crowd.
But seeing Bob made the outwardly macho duo drop their guard a bit, and
they steered him into the facility's small steam room. Bob smiled
simperingly, the door closed, and the sign over top changed from VACANT to
IN USE.
The others crowded near. They heard Bob's cooing voice and the men's
grunted answers. Someone thought Bob's next words were something about
having 'no limits'. The idea of that jerk, who was always so full of
himself, forever acting like he was Bob's gift to women, being in such a
reversed situation, even provoking it, was amusing. Apparently his former
pose had been some sort of cover up for his real desires. So be it.
There were other bits of conversation which, if they were being deciphered
correctly, involved practices that would have made a wild porn film, one
that could have been called TWO KINGS HAVE THEIR WAY WITH A QUEEN. And
the noises that followed suggested that everything everyone was picturing
happening... really was happening. The hiss of steam obscured much of it
but Bob's occasional shrieks of delight sent a clear message. It didn't
end for over an hour. When the three of them emerged, the two brutish men
looked exhausted but satisfied. Bob was chirpy and, to all appearances,
ready for two more partners. He would be always be remembered for this
startling incident.
***
There were several more changes that took place when Blandings Landing was
transformed, at least for some of its residents, into Sissytown. Each of
the males who were affected experienced some variety of poetic justice.
Chunky Ralph Snelt, the obnoxious reporter who had come as close to
possible to slandering many of his neighbors, without actually doing it,
became a top story himself. He placed an ad in the Personals section,
announcing himself as 'plump and ready to play' seeking 'chubby chasers to
enjoy all sorts of games with me'. Sid Mathers, an exemplary husband to
outward appearances but a domineering bastard in the privacy of the home
he shared with his wife, underwent an astonishing change. He became
devoted to her and insisted that she allow him to perform all the
housework, also begging that she help him pick out a sweet maid uniform
and a blond wig. She was bowled over but only too happy to go along with
it. And Paul Reach, the town's richest resident, began spreading his
wealth around to help others, while his personal interests shifted from
financially controlling people, to getting in touch with his feminine
side, which involved wearing female lingerie, creating a dungeon in his
spacious basement, and offering himself to the low-profile swingers group
that quietly had its fun every weekend, as a sissy sex slave for their
parties. He even got himself several tattoos that declared his new role
and suggested some of the acts it might involve him performing. The
libertines eagerly accepted his offer and had him sign a long-term
agreement which, though not legally binding, was fun to make him read at
the beginning of their next few meetings.
And that's all there is to tell. Was it really magic? Or some form of
mass hysteria? You can believe whatever you want. But that woman, the
mature yet youthful one, has been seen in several other locations, where
similar incidents occurred shortly after her arrival. And who knows?
Maybe she'll be paying a visit to YOUR town.
THE END?
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If you like this one, you might also want to check my stories CHANGED BY
MY SISTER, DEVLIN and HALLOWEEN SCENES. Would love to read any comments
you'd like to post.
Yvette
- 05.08.2022
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