Timmy's mom sat before her computer, drinking her coffee while she filled out the online form.
This last month, what with the bullying he had received from both males and females at school, her son's bedwetting habit had only worsened. She dearly loved Timmy but she felt that she was at her wit's end. His bedroom constantly smelled of urine now and the laundry of wet sheets was getting ridiculous. To be sure, the mattress was permanently ruined and she wasn't looking forward to shopping for another.
Having heard from a friend about a nearby facility called the Bedwetter Institute, she thought maybe, she had finally found a solution.
The questions on their entry form were pretty straightforward and it was only when she reached the last question that she hesitated. It asked her to choose whether the patient was a 'regular bedwetter' or the 'sissy' type. She thought about that one carefully.
Timmy had always been rather effeminate growing up; he liked playing with dolls, even into his early teens, and sports, whether at school or in the neighborhood, held little interest for him. Physically, he was on the short side, with a slight frame and a soft spoken voice. And with his latest style of hair growing rather long, he could honestly be mistaken for a girl.
After careful consideration, his mom selected the 'sissy' box and pressed 'send'.
A week later, she was driving Timmy across town to the Institute, remaining coy with him about exactly what he was getting into. He was a bit nervous, but she assured him that the people there were very experienced practitioners and they took the very best care of their guests (she was hesitant to use the term, 'patients').
As they entered the glass double doors to the facility, a pretty woman behind a receiving desk greeted them warmly. They found themselves in a small room, with a door leading out on opposite sides. After making her introduction, and signing several release forms, the receptionist buzzed a button on her console and another beautiful woman in her early thirties came into the room.
“We can take it from here, Mrs. Johnson,” she said, her confidence readily apparent.
Timmy's mom thought the woman dressed rather provocatively, for a medical professional but she said nothing. After hugging her son close, she looked down into his nervous face.
“Now Timmy—I want you to be on your best behavior here. You are to do exactly as they tell you, do you understand me?”
“Yes, mama,” he bleated meekly.
After saying goodbye, Timmy was left with the woman who smiled warmly and introduced herself as Miss Taylor.
“Wha-what are we gonna do?” he asked anxiously.
“Don't you worry about that, Timmy—I'm here to get you all fixed up,” she said eagerly.
Timmy wasn't sure what that meant but he didn't argue as she led him through the door on the left which went down a long hallway with more doors off either side. Taking him into one that looked somewhat like a medical examination room, she instructed him to get undressed. With her confident, superior air about her, Timmy found that he was immediately intimidated by her. But even as he anxiously undressed, he couldn't help but steal glances at her sexy, curvy profile. Her round, full breasts really filled out her snug top and Timmy could never remember having seen nurses (if that's what she was) wearing such a revealing uniform like hers.
When he got down to his socks and underwear, he hesitated, reluctant to be any further exposed.
“Come along,” she said impatiently, “Everything comes off.”
Timmy didn't understand why it was necessary to be completely nude, but as usual, he didn't have the backbone to stand up to this insistent woman. He whimpered with embarrassment, and slowly pulled the last of his clothes off, cupping his hands over his crotch to try and hide his childishly tiny genitals.
“Sit here,” she said, patting the end of the low examination table as she went to get a few things from the cupboard. She returned with a razor, some shaving cream and a bowl of water.
“The first thing we needed to do, is get your diaper area shaved—we insist on strict hygiene here and any hair down there will just get in the way.”
Timmy blushed hotly at the term 'diaper area', and he cringed at her authoritative tone but he nevertheless complied as he sat on the edge of the table, his face turning a deep shade of crimson. He was deeply conscious of how small his pen-is was—certainly much smaller than any of his peers, from what he'd observed in the locker room at school.
Humming to herself, Taylor quickly and efficiently shaved his crotch area, pulling his thin little willie this way and that, as she methodically removed what little pubic hair he had. Her felt his face flushing again as she held his little sack and shaved between his butt cheeks, leaving him as babyishly bald as the day he was born.
“There...now that that's taken care of, let's get you into your outfit for the day,” she said as she held forth a prissy pink and white top with a bunny motif across the chest. It had short, puffy, elasticized sleeves and a frilly hem and Timmy shook his head in protest as she began pulling it over his head.
“No...no,” he said weakly but he didn't actually do anything to stop her. Next, she pulled some cute pink anklet socks over his feet, after which she buckled a shiny black pair of Mary Janes in place. Lastly, she brushed his long hair into two sassy pigtails and clipped a pair of pink bows to hold them in place.
Timmy swung his feet helplessly, deeply ashamed to be wearing such a childish outfit.
“And now you're all ready for your chastity protection,” she said cheerfully as she produced a small pink device in her slim hand.
Timmy quaked with fear and he shrunk back in apprehension.
“N-n-no!” he cried, but she was already deftly pulling his tiny little hairless genitals through the cuff ring of the device and mating it with the short, stubby coc-k cage.
He tried to push her hands away but she simply swatted his back like they were an annoying pair of flies.
“Wha-what are you doing?” he wailed in frustration as the she pulled the key out of the integrated lock of the device.
“Sissy bedwetters should never have access to their pee-pees,” she explained firmly, “Believe me--I can tell a pantywaist and a masturbator from a mile away and you're both.”
Timmy blushed fiercely with shame, her descriptions all too close to what his peers called him at school on a daily basis.
Nonetheless, he felt compelled to stand up for himself.
“I-I'm not a sissy!” he whined in his girlish voice but Taylor only chuckled with amusement.
“Come with me, Timmy,” she said as she took his hand, pulled him off the table and led him out of the room.
The bewildered pantywaist was in a state of shock and his free hand shot down to cover his caged willie as she pulled him along. They walked down the hallway and just as they reached another closed door, a young woman came up to them from the opposite direction.
“New boy?” she inquired of Taylor.
“Yep—brand new. I'm checking him in now,” Taylor responded, making no effort to open the door to allow Timmy to escape the woman's scrutiny.
The woman looked him up and down appraisingly, giggling at him with amusement.
“Looks like another sissy being put in his proper place,” she quipped before continuing down the hall.
Timmy's face flushed with anger and he jerked his hand out of Taylor's.
“I'm not taking another minute of this!” he announced flatly.
“No?” she asked ambivalently, “Okay, but don't you think I should give you some underwear before you go?”
“Yes,” he replied sulking.
As she opened the door, Timmy's mouth hung open as he beheld what looked like a little baby girl's nursery. As his eyes scanned the room, he took in a large pink and white crib with soft, pink and yellow blankets situated in the corner. A mesh-sided playpen, complete with stuffed animals and toys for a toddler was situated opposite. And next to a pink dresser was a large changing table with two stacks of cloth diapers and plastic panties waiting for their next user.
Timmy's stomach buzzed with nervous anticipation.
Leading him into the room, Taylor pushed him down onto the changing table forcibly. Timmy couldn't help but notice a lingering smell of urine that permeated the room, not unlike his bedroom at home.
“Wha-wha--” he stammered.
“Bedwetters need diapers—and that's just what you'll wear while you're here,” she explained evenly.
“Oh no I'm not,” he pushed back as he shook his head in protest.
“Timmy—we can either do this the easy way—or the hard way,” she said as she picked up an oval paddle with air holes in its face, “What's it going to be?”
Timmy sprang to his feet and made ready to bolt out the door but Taylor snatched his wrist and brought the paddle down on his bare bottom with a fierce, biting slap.
SMACKK!!
Timmy's eyes went wide and he cried out in shock and pain.
Yanking him over to the edge of the crib mattress, Taylor sat down and threw the hapless sissy over her firm, toned thighs.
“Stop it! Let me go!” Timmy wailed as he kicked his legs, trying desperately to escape.
As Timmy's struggled to rise back up, Taylor brought the paddle down hard, smacking both cheeks with a resounding thunderclap that filled the room. Never one with a particularly high threshold for pain, Timmy felt hot tears brimming his eyes.
Taylor smacked his quickly reddening bottom again and again, turning his lily-white checks to pink, and then very quickly, an angry shade of crimson. Timmy wailed in agony and kicked his Mary Janes wildly even as he shook his fists in frustration. He'd never been spanked at home and this was both mortifying and excruciatingly painful. The tears were streaming down his face now as he cried like a baby.
And yet, Taylor kept a steady rhythm, smacking one cheek, then the other, then the same one, just to throw him off balance. Timmy squirmed and struggled on her lap in an entirely futile attempt to evade her swats but it did no good. He felt like a childish little sissy, bawling his eyes out over the lap of this strong, older woman who held total control over him.
At long last, the painful, humiliating punishment was over and after standing him up on his shaky feet, he hid his wet face in his hands as she ordered him to put his nose in the corner. Timmy stood there, sobbing like a child and rubbing his inflamed bottom as Taylor left the room for several minutes. As he tried to get his crying under control, he reflected on his bedwetting habit and it was only now that he realized that his halfhearted, pathetic attempts to get it under control had landed him in his present circ-umstances.
Taylor returned several minutes later, carrying a bulging red rubber enema bag that was bursting with soapy water. A long white hose ran from the top of the bag, ending in a very thick, imposing, dil-do-shaped nozzle.
Timmy gulped at the sight of it, even as he rubbed his stinging, roasting hot buns.
“This is something you can look forward to every morning, Timmy,” she said cheerfully as she hung the heavy rubber bag on a tall stand.
Sitting down on an armless stool, Taylor picked up a jar of nursery jelly and a medium sized dil-do.
“Come along,” she told him, beckoning him over to her side.
Thoroughly chastened now, Timmy shuffled over to her, only to have her pull him back over her lap. He squealed loudly and felt tears misting his eyes again.
“I wanna go home,” he bleated.
“Shhh...hush, sissy,” she said soothingly, “This is just what you need.”
She began by stuffing a generous dollop of lubricant into his pouting hole, followed by the dil-do she had just picked up.
“Our enema nozzles are quite large,” she chuckled, “So it's necessary to get your tight little hole prepared before I use the Sissy Splitter.”
Timmy whimpered helplessly but he gasped when he felt the big, blunt end of the dil-do pushing insistently against his anus.
“OHH!!” he cried as the slippery phallus suddenly pushed past his defenseless opening. Taylor eased it in slowly, gently even, as she let him get used to the unfamiliar feeling.
“I'll be sure to teach this technique to your mommy, so she can continue the practice when you get home,” she assured him.
Timmy moaned, knowing he soundly just like a little girl.
“Theeere,” she smiled encouragingly, “That's a good sissy.”
Taylor took her time, twirling the dil-do inside him and slowly pumping him with it. Soon, Timmy's breathing started to get heavier and a moan escaped his lips.
“Okay, I think we're ready for your enema now,” she announced.
Timmy whimpered as she withdrew the dil-do and then coated the monstrous end of the dil-do nozzle with more lube.
“Take a deep breath, Timmy, this one is really going to stretch you.”
Timmy's eyes went wide as he felt what seemed like the rubbery end of a baseball bat being pushed against his puckering hole.
“No...no...No!!” he cried as she began applying ever greater pressure to the titanic shaft against his sissy hole.
Timmy's hands waved in the air and he kicked helplessly, just as the fat, mushroom head of the dil-do pushed past his defeated sphincter.
“OHHHHH!!” he wailed in angst.
Taylor grinned with satisfaction as she pushed the nozzle deeper and deeper into his rectum. To be sure, his hole was being stretched to the very limit—even Taylor was surprised that such a massive shaft could be stuffed inside him.
“UNNGH,” Timmy wailed as his glossy Mary Janes gyrated behind him.
He was breathing heavy now, trying to cope with the gargantuan rubbery invader being pushed inside him.
At the same time, a dribble of prec-um leaked out of the tip of his chastity cage, to drip down between Taylor's firm thighs. Timmy had never felt so emasculated in his life, and he was helpless to do anything but squirm and moan over her lap.
Taylor pushed the leviathan in slowly, even as Timmy gasped at the sensation like he was being split in two. Finally, with seven inches of it buried to the hilt in his rectum, she released the clip and warm, soapy water began flowing unimpeded, deep into Timmy's bowels.
He moaned helplessly, gazing at his humiliating reflection in the mirrored closet doors opposite them. Taylor smiled with satisfaction, and she patted his blazing red cheek with approval.
“The regular patients don't get enemas but we make sure every sissy gets one, every morning,” she explained cheerfully, “This way, you'll start your day all fresh and clean.”
Timmy squirmed on her lap and moaned again as the soapy water surged deeply into him. The massively proportioned dil-do nozzle ensured that a steady flow of soapy water flowed without interruption into Timmy's bowels.
From time to time, Taylor would close the clip, allowing the water to settle into him before resuming his humiliating purge.
“The thick, rubbery shaft of the Sissy Splitter is designed to rub against your prostrate gland, causing you to leak your pent-up semen, while at the same time--making sure you can't experience an orgasm. Sissy bedwetters like you don't need orgasms like real men and we make absolutely sure you'll never experience one while you're here.”
“Oh...oh...OH!” he cried as he tried to cope with the flow of warm, soapy water steadily filling him up.
Between Taylor's silky thighs, a stream of prec-um continued to drip out in a long strand, forming a small puddle on the linoleum floor beneath Timmy. True to her word, Timmy was getting his little, hairless balls milked of every drop of semen he had built up since last night's marathon masturbating session in his bedroom. Idly, he wondered how long it would be before he would be able to play with himself again.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” she scolded him, “Wetting your bed every night like a little baby. Sissy bedwetters like you belong in diapers and plastic panties. And that's just what you'll be wearing the entire time you're here. You'll get used to the feeling of warm, clammy wet diapers and maybe that will make you try harder not to wet them at night.”
Timmy could only moan helplessly as the enema bag was slowly drained and it grew more and more flat on the stand above him.
At long last, the sudsy bubbles were the last bit of liquid to flow into his rectum but Taylor kept the fat nozzle firmly buried in Timmy's anus for a few minutes longer, just to be sure.
The emasculated sissy nearly cried with relief when he finally felt her easing the titanic dil-do out of his sore, aching back hole. Standing him up on weak feet, she told him to go down the hall and release the enema in the bathroom there. Timmy limped slowly, trying to keep the two quarts of soapy water from exploding out of his bottom. The same woman they'd encountered previously in the hallway happened to be going by at that moment, and she stopped to giggle at Timmy's defeated gait.
Topic: The Bedwetter Institute (Read 386 times)
