Sweet Little Spy pt 1

Printer-friendly version


Sweet Little Spy

My Mom and Dad had had enough. They were at there wits end about me. I was a bad kid no doubts about it. Even though I was small for my age. I looked 11 maybe 12 years old, I was actually 15. My name is Charles James Wilson, a name I hate with a passion. Luckily all my friends call me either CJ.

I have always been a hand full as far back as I can remember. Lately I have been busted by the cops a couple times. I am failing all my classes. I am out late constantly, I even think I got my girlfriend knocked up and she is 13 . I smoke and drink.

It all started one bright Saturday morning( or should I say afternoon) I was in the kitchen eating when the door bell rang. I didn’t pay it no mind as my friends never come over. I was just hoping it wasn’t the cops.

I heard strange voices. A woman and a man I couldn’t make out what they were saying. My folks and the strangers talked for a while. I wasn’t called so I thought it wasn’t about me. I finished and headed upstairs to shower and head out to do some boarding.

As I walked through the living room, I saw the two strangers. A very fine looking lady with short dark hair and big tits. The guy was huge at least 6’5” about 250. The guy looked like a linebacker for the Bears. They where both dressed similar. They wore dark suits and the guy had on dark glasses.

“Is that her? The lady asked.
Do to my long hair and small build I am often confused for a girl.

“Yes, That’s her” My Mom said.
I turned, with the what the hell look.

“CJ, this is Ms. Freman and Mr. Jones” Dad said.

“Hi” I answered.

Ms. Freman stood up and walked up to me. She was 2” taller than me without the 4” heals. She looked me up and down. “Stand up straight, young lady” she commanded.

“Who the fuck are you, calling me a girl” I said.

Without a warning, the bitch back handed me, hard across the face. Knocking me to the floor. I shook it off quick and made a leap for her. With the grace of a ballerina she sidestepped my attack driving me to the floor, again.

Regaining my bearings, I again charged her. She did some type of karate or something and flipped me hard on my back, knocking the wind out of me. I lay there for a moment, catching my breath. Mr. Jones was just sitting on the couch still. If this bitch could take me so easily. I had better cool it for now or Mr. Jones would rip my head off.

“Now are you going to be a good girl and stand up straight” Ms. Freman said.

Before I could tell this whore off, My Dad dropped the bomb.
“Charles, Ms. Freman and Mr. Jones are here to take you to your new school.”

Still huffing “What new school, I ain’t going to no new fucking school” I said, getting to my feet.

The bitch backhanded me again” Proper young ladies do not use such language”

That slap brought blood to my mouth, Spitting it out on the floor. I thought of what to do. Here is this bitch calling me lady and girl, my folks telling me about some fucking new school, probably a private boarding school or something. I needed to bale and now.

"Mr. and Mrs. Wilson don’t be worried when little miss here gets back you won’t know her.” Ms. Freman said. “ Mr. Jones would you assist the little lady, to the car.”
Spitting out more blood, I looked at my parents. They looked away and lowered there heads in shame.

“She will not need anything we will provide everything she will need. Come Mr. Jones we have a plane to catch.”

That did it, I’m not going anywhere with these people. I am outta here. I jumped up and made a made run for the back door. I didn’t hear any one coming after me. I looked back as I flung open the back door. Figuring I was home free. I then hit a brick wall. As I lay flat on my back, I see this huge black guy towering over me. He must have been 6’8 and about 300 pounds of muscle. He was dressed in the same black suit as Mr. Jones. He pulled me to my feet and holding my hand behind my back He marched me back to the living room.

“Oh, I see you have met Mr. Smith” The bitch said. “I have had to deal with temper mental young ladies like her from time to time.”

Mr. Smith held me still. As Ms. Freman pulled out a syringe.
Turning to my folks, “just a mild tranquilizer to put her to sleep until we get air born”
Mr. Jones ripped down my left sleeve.

“She will have no place to run” She said as she put the needle in my arm, and injected me with what ever it was “at 40,000 ft”

The last thing I remember is a cool feeling going up my arm. Kind of like when I broke my leg boarding. I felt myself being thrown over one of the guys shoulders.

“Have a good day, Mr. And Mrs. Wilson I will keep you informed of her progress” Ms. Freman said.
That was it for me, I was out for the count.

I began coming to, I heard the drone of jet engines. As I began to shake off the tranquilizer. I opened my eyes to blurry sight. It was like I was stone drunk. The only thing I could make out was the white walls of the cabin, and the blue seats. My hands where bound with hand cuffs as where my feet.

As my vision cleared I looked around. It was a small plane, just a couple rows of seats. I noticed Ms. Freman sitting in a couch in the front along with Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith. There was also another older lady with them.

She seemed like the boss. She was very distinguished in her dress and manners. They seemed to be talking but low enough that I couldn’t hear over the engine sound. There where 4 other boys in the seats around me. All about my same age, and in the same predicament as me handcuffed and seemingly out of it.

What did my parents get me into, where was this plane going. What am I going to do? For the first time in as far as I can remember I started crying. I just sobbed quietly as I could, it kinda felt good. I noticed the others coming around one after another. They didn’t say anything just held there heads in shame.

Mr. Jones noticed that me and the others where awake. He motioned to the well dressed lady. The Lady glanced our way and stood, straighten her dress and walked to the front of our seats.

All of my stories are purely fictional, the some places are real, some are not. The names and personnel used in all my stories, are also fictional. They may be based on people I knew but, Any resemblance to anyone living, dead, or un-dead are purely coincidental.

I write my stories as a fantasy. While based on this world. Things in my story could stretch reality. However I write my stories from my mind. I reserve all rights to my work. Any form of duplication without my permission is forbidden. Please enjoy reading them as I have in writing them.

up
275 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

interesting start

interesting start

Definitely intrigued.......

D. Eden's picture

But I can tell that this is going to be a forced fem story, and if that is true, it is far from my favorite.

I am not one of those parents who doesn’t believe in punishment - in fact, I believe that children need to learn that 5here are consequences to everything they do. However, what was depicted in this story so far is not punishment - it is abuse. Abuse condoned by weak parents who are incapable of dealing with their own child.

I get the feeling I will be upset by reading this further, but only time will tell.

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

Forced fem

WillowD's picture

I haven't been in the mood for forced fem stories for a while now. But I just read part of the latest chapter of this story and it caught my interest. But who wants to start at chapter 14 in a story? Time to start reading.

Wow ok

Samantha Heart's picture

This is intresting look foward to what happens next.

Love Samantha Renée Heart.

Petticoat punishment? Or something much different?

Jamie Lee's picture

The start of this story never says what they parents tried to straighten out CJ, just that he was out of control.

The beginning has all the earmarks of an intervention, in that the person wasn't told anything about what was about to happen but they would be going with the strangers.

It is apparent CJ had no respect for anyone, even himself, and that somewhere in his upbringing he was allowed to do as he pleased when he pleased.

By the way he was treated by the woman and the men, and by the injection he was given, those people have dealt with these type of boys before.

In Jane Thompson stories, Judge Ruth sentences boys to Jane's school. In this story it seems the same idea is in mind but not the method. These people may be an independent organization who do the same as Jane, turning unruly boys into "proper" young men, boys, through Petticoat Punishment.

Others have feelings too.