Date: Sun, 1 Apr 2012 23:59:02 +1000
From: andrew crook <accrook@bigpond.com>
Subject: Cathy - part 1. / TG young friends

Cathy. (Chp 1)
By Ms Nicole Smith

If you are NOT 18 or older, please
Get lost and visit another web page.

THIS story is a complete work of fiction
And because it's about a young boy it WON'T
have any NASTY sex in it - Sorry!

*******************************************************************************

Hi. My name's Craig.

Well actually my full birth name is Craig Ulysses Thomas Eugene Young, (but
I don't know how long it's going to be, before something takes place to
change that fact, because my nickname around the house is "Cutey" which I
really hate) and I'm 9 years old going on 10.

I live with my mum and have 3 sisters, all of whom are older than me. We
live in a quite large house in a suburb called Gordon, which is on the
North Shore of Sydney and that's in Australia.

My sister's names are Annette, Maree and Amanda. Annette's the oldest and
she's going to be 18 this Sunday. Then comes Maree whose almost 16 and then
there's the youngest one, Amanda (but I usually call her panda bear).

She's going to be 13 in a month's time and is in year 7 at high
school. She's my favorite sister because she let's me play with her dolls
all the time and sometimes lets me join in, when her girlfriends come round
to play.

Not that I don't like my other sisters, because that's not true. They're
never ever mean to me and we never seem to fight with one another. It's
just that they're a lot older then I am and besides which, most of the time
they're on the phone talking to friends or going out somewhere or stuff
like that.

My Mother's really great to be around, and always makes sure that I don't
get lost being the only BOY in the house and she always tries to make sure
that I'm not lost or forgotten amongst all the women in the house (she
jokingly tells all her friends that). She's 38 now, very pretty, and NEVER
appears to get angry with me. And, so it seems to me, there's absolutely
nothing I can't ask her that she doesn't seem to know what the answer
is. My mum's really smart and I love her to pieces.

About 9 years ago my dad died and left us a lot of money through his life
insurance. I'd only been born a few months when he died in a car
crash. He'd left so much money in fact, that mum stays at home and looks
after the house and makes sure that it's always clean and she cooks all the
meals and washes the clothes and does the ironing and still finds time to
make sure I get a good education.

I don't know why it is, but all my sisters go to school, yet I have to stay
at home and get taught by mum. When I asked mum to let me go to the local
school, she told me that I was far to good for that and besides, she kept
telling me, I was very special so she didn't want others to ruin me, by
having rough house children around me who might bump and push me in the
playground.

Although I didn't go to school it didn't mean I didn't have any
friends. But about 3 years ago at my 6th birthday party, my so called best
friend punched me and started calling me names and all sorts of
things. Mummy was furious and grabbed the boy by the arm and pulled him
away, threatening to beat him black and blue and calling him a viscous
little nasty thug.

I'd never seen mum angry before this all happened and I've never since
then, either. But I now know for a fact, that I'd never want to do anything
that would make her angry after seeing her lose her temper like that. When
the boy's mother hurriedly called around to collect him, my mum told her
that if her nasty little brat ever came within a mile of me or this house,
ever again, she'd get her lawyers to sue her into abject poverty.

After that day, mum decided that she'd screen any potential children to
ensure that THOSE friends were more suited to my delicate being and that I
could feel safe around them. I ended up with only a few children calling
around to see ME, but each of those children were of a nature that my mum
was more pleased with.

That birthday was also a turning point in my young life. My mum instigated
a new set of rules in the house and that night sat us all down and informed
everyone that she was taking me out of school and she was going to home
school herself.

She then told me to go up to bed while she talked to my sisters about the
new rules that she wanted them to follow to help me become a better person
and to make sure that my home schooling wasn't ruined.

**************************************************************************
I was woken up as usual by mum putting her head around the bedroom door and
telling me it was 8 o'clock and I'd better get moving if I was to be
dressed and ready for classes at 9. And so I pulled down the bed sheets,
stretched myself and slid out of the bed and crept across to my bathroom to
start getting ready to face the day.

I looked at my facial reflection in the ensuite mirror and looking back at
me was a petite face, with soft green eyes, a small upturned nose, and
framed by blonde ruffled hair that came down to just below my shoulders. I
doused my face in cold water and gently patted it dry with the fluffy towel
on the rack.

I then sauntered over to the toilet and made sure the seat was down before
I started to wiggle my bright pink panties down to around my knees, and
lifting my nightie above my waist while I sat down to empty my bladder. As
I finished I tore a few tissues off the roll and carefully wiped myself
dry, before standing up and pulling my panties down to my feet and stepping
out of them. I then pulled my nightie up and over my head, before bending
down to pick up the used panties and then walking over to the hamper to put
them both inside of it for mum to wash later on.

I headed back into the bedroom and laid out a sheet of plastic on top of
the bed before lying back down on my left side and curling up a bit into a
sort of semi fetal position, just as mum walked back in. As usual, she was
carrying a tray in her hands and on it were 2 items. A bulging plastic bag
with a thin hose attached to it as well as a slightly flattened used
tube. She placed the tray on top of the bedside vanity, before taking the
bag and reaching up to place it on a hook on the overhead bed frame.

Mum then took a tube from off the tray, opened the tube and squeezed some
of its contents onto her fingers before quietly asking me to spread my legs
wider, before she placed one hand on my bottom and carefully inserted one
of her other hand's fingers inside of my little bottom, repeating the
process a few times, all the while moving her finger(s) in ever larger
circles, before being satisfied before pulling them out.

She then took the tube attached to the bag and pushed the nozzle firmly but
gently inside of my bottom before turning the valve on the tube a bit. I
could feel the bag's warm contents slowly start to drain into me. "I'll be
back shortly to remove the tube Cathy," mum said as she left the room.

I lay still and started to feel my insides start to expand as the warm
fluid flowed into my body. I had grown use to this occurrence since it had
begun about a week after THAT birthday. But today it seemed (well to my way
of thinking) that my mum was taking longer to return then she usually
did. As I glanced up to look at the bag, I thought that my internal clock
must have been running slow because I was beginning to feel an intense
cramping around my tummy and lower bowel area, which was very unusual yet
the bag still had fluid left in it.

Finally mum walked back in, and looking up at the bag let me know that she
was removing the nozzle but that I had to lie still for 15 more minutes,
before going to the toilet.

"Yes mum." I whimpered as I felt the growing pressure on my bowels
involuntarily cramping my insides and making me clench my bottom cheeks. My
reply made my mum rebuke my reply.

"That's not how I've taught you to speak to me is it Cathy?" she said in a
firm and authoritative voice. "Now how do you answer your mother?"

"Yesth Mummy" I gasped in a higher pitched voice.

"That's MUCH better sweetheart," mummy tenderly said before turning round
and heading back downstairs. I moved one hand to my tummy and began rubbing
it in slow circles to try and make the cramps in my tummy go away, while
desperately trying to make sure that I didn't have an accident.

The penalty for an accident was a further douching, BUT. . . . with COLD
water AND a bigger bag. I'd been trained to handle these early morning
enemas and knew that I could usually hold the contents inside of me, until
I waddled out to the toilet to expel them, but this morning it was taking
all my will power and concentration to do it.

This morning was a really hard struggle and I was glad when mum came back
in and removed the nozzle. I eased off the bed and start to quickly waddle
towards the sanctuary of the ensuite door, crouched over with my right hand
hovering close to my bottom.

I actually sighed out loud as I sat on the seat and immediately started to
void the fluids inside of me. Mum put her head around the corner and let me
know that I had just held a further more quart of water then before and
that this would be the new level in the future, before letting me know that
when I had showered, my clothes would be laid out on the bed for me. "Don't
dawdle in there honey" mum called out, as she walked back into my bedroom.

I was too exhausted to reply to her and simply tried to relax my body, as I
felt the water involuntarily gush out from inside of me. Before long, I
felt the flow begin to slow down, which then made me have to work my
internal muscles to empty the fluids still trapped inside of me. Eventually
though, my bowels felt empty enough that I could take some toilet tissues
and wipe my bottom area clean. Then I slowly stood up and walked towards
the shower, before stepping in and turning the taps and standing just
outside of the reach of the main water flow to test the warmth of the
shower flow first.

I slowly slid my small body into the warm stream, while at the same time
trying to cover my swollen nipples, which were extremely sensitive to the
force of the shower spray hitting them, all the while needing to feel the
soothing warm water begin to relax me and cleanse my young body.

I had to take care not to wet my hair entirely and so I decided after about
a minute to put my shower cap on, before standing fully under the
showerhead to start soaping up. I'm always thorough about soaping up, and I
always make sure that I soap my bottom very thoroughly as well, so as to
avoid any dirty marks on my panties later on. Eventually I felt that I was
clean all over and turned off the shower and opened shower door to reach
out and take the large bath sheet off the railing, before wrapping it
around my body and fully stepping out onto the bath mat.

I'd learnt never to rub myself dry anymore and instead had been taught to
pat my body dry. I had also been taught to hold the towel at the top of my
body which would ensure that it was covering my modesty, which my mother
and at various times my sisters had had to tell me (when they caught me
doing otherwise,) so that now I now did it as a conditioned behavioral
trait, before walking back into the bedroom to get dressed for that day's
lessons.

As always mummy had put my clothes out and laid them on the bed ready for
me to change into. Today mummy had picked out some lavender colored satin
panties and a white cotton training bra with some soft satin inserts in
them. That was because my nipples seemed to always be very tender and
sensitive most days now and the soft slippery satin material usually
ensured that they didn't hurt too much, which would happen I moved my upper
body moved around to much.

There was also a pair of tights for me to put on next before I stepped into
a pink cotton sleeveless dress, which then made me move and wriggle my body
around until I felt and pulled up the zip at the back of the dress, before
finally putting on a pair of white flat soled strap shoes to complete my
outfit for the day.

When I'd finished I walked over to my wardrobe mirror, turned side on while
trying my best to look at the back of my body and then walked back over to
my vanity table to get my brush and a few bobby pins so I could set my hair
for the day. The feel of the soft bristled brush being drawn through my
hair also made it nice and shiny and I was always amazed how much different
I looked, once I'd finished brushing it. Then I reached over and took a
small tube and proceeded to put some pale pink lipstick on me to complete
my face, before happily heading out the bedroom door and downstairs for
breakfast . . . .

Bye for now, Cathy.x x