XXX Miss Anastasia - Chapters 4 to 6
Research projects, including how we helped a thumb sucker grow up
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      Hope you've read the first 3 chapters. If not, never mind, this story is complete in itself.

Chapter 4: Miss Sissy Suck-A-Thumb
          Can a thumb sucker be cured?

This is my case study of
   He had been referred to me by Dr Blythe Sowell-Jackson in England, and at once I declared myself interested after receiving the case notes faxed over to me.

   Johnny had been a late developer, he was a mute, his parents in Devon first referring him to a doctor when he was eight, one subsidiary problem was he spent much of his time sucking his thumb.
Though he had been almost cured of this habit, his parents had both been sadly killed in a car crash, and Johnny had reverted to his childhood ways.
  Dr Jackson in London had first seen this lad of few words on his seventeenth birthday and had tried various standard treatments. Living in a care home wasn't helping his problem. Other teenagers still made fun of him constantly. So after a careful search, he was placed with foster parents.
   For a time this was a success. His close contact with a female for the first time for some years, an attractive mother named Mrs Brown was beneficial. But when he had turned eighteen, his thumb sucking returned after he had asked that she suckle him, and she at first refused.
To stop his old habit, Mrs Brown on her own initiative, rashly decided to allow him to suck her milk.  This did cure him, but Jackson advised her not to continue with it, and thereafter Johnny would often nuzzle her bosoms in the street and at home, attempting to be fed.  Embarrassing to say the least!
 As a result the thumb sucking came back along with a new problem, wetting his panties, and this is what led Dr Jackson to seek my expertise.
For Johnny one day started dressing in Mrs Brown's clothing- she found him lying on her bed one afternoon in her best red dress, kicking his legs in the air and crying out
"Milky, milky."
   It seemed every effort to help Johnny resulted in more regressive behavior.

   I flew over to England, met by Dr Jackson, who drove me down to the Exeter area, where Johnny, now almost twenty and unbelievably the same physical age as myself, was living in a home again.
 I didn't arrive at the most opportune moment for them. The superintendent escorted us to him at his life skills session, a woodwork lesson, but we found the teacher, who was supposedly teaching them the carpentry skills, fast asleep! Johnny, sucking his thumb at the back of the class, was being mercilessly teased. The young men were gathered round him and as we drew nearer, we could see one of the girls had stripped off her top and was taunting Johnny to "come and give me a big suck." Johnny had withdrawn into his shell and was crying. It would have been interesting to test his further reaction for the girl was now being urged, "feed it, feed it."
    The superintendent thankfully stopped it with a shout that drew their attention to our presence.
He reprimanded the weak teacher, while Jackson carried the cowering lad out the room.  By the time the superintendent had joined us, I had already decided Johnny was a case worth studying.
  He wouldn't open up to anyone at all as we concluded the arrangements for the transfer to my care which made me his guardian. He sat in a corner sucking his thumb and whimpering. A first sign of humanity was when I offered my hand, and pulled him up from the floor and he held my hand tight as we walked to the car of Dr Jackson.
He drove me and Johnny back to Heathrow Airport, on the way we stopped for a meal at the Sedgemoor Service Station, and here Johnny became a real nuisance, muzzling up to several bewildered ladies.
They looked severely shocked at their table as Johnny attempted to suckle them through their clothing. One lady in a jumper was too strong for him, and pushed him off, but by the time we had realized what he was up to, Johnny had met a more passive customer, a young girl in a T-shirt, and he had already located her bosom and was sucking it through the cotton. I thought she looked almost pleased.

   However I was real shocked myself, when Dr Jackson storming up, slapped him round the legs, and apologized to the family. While he did so, Johnny was reluctant to let his mummy go, despite the smacks, so Jackson roughly pulled him off her, adding a further hefty wallop on his nappy. He was now crying and it seemed the whole of Sedgemoor was staring at this unfortunate scene.
    But I had to remonstrate with Jackson, this was, I said, quite the wrong approach.
  I took Johnny aside and promised him if he tried very very hard to behave and do as doctor told him, that I would buy him a treat. He nodded, promising he would try.
  "What would you like, then, Johnny?" I smiled.
  He whispered in my ear. I said I'd do my best. A quick consultation with Jackson, and he agreed we had time to pull off the motorway near Bristol.

  We were fortunate in spying a large superstore right by a turn off. Here Jackson parked and I hurried Johnny inside. He was excited and started sucking his thumb, so I took his hand and reminded him what he'd promised.
  We made for the clothing section. He wanted a dress.
  There was a vast selection, and he set his heart on a beautiful pink woolly dress, that I had to explain was entirely unsuitable, for it was designed for babies up to three months!
He didn't understand this, insisting that I had promised. I tried explaining it would be very hot to wear this time of year, but in the end, with time running short, and Johnny clutching his desired purchase, we made for the checkout.
  As we got near there, I had a brainwave. See that large two foot teddy? I snatched that, and we paid for the two items.
   Once outside, we found Jackson waiting, with the engine running. As we rejoined the motorway, I tried to show Johnny how the dress could be used to clothe teddy, but he stubbornly tried to put it on himself. Only when he realized that was an impossibility, did he accede to my idea.
When he saw teddy in the woolly pink dress, he gave the first smile I'd ever seen from him, and clutched the teddy to his chest.
   That was his happy pose as the car ate up the miles to London. Never a squeak from him.  Dr Jackson looked relieved, and perhaps surprised when we alighted and I praised Johnny.
  "Well done, Johnny," I smiled, "you've been so good, I'll give you one more treat before the plane. Say goodbye and thank you to Dr Jackson."
  There was a mumbled farewell, then Johnny took my hand, clutching teddy in the other.
   There were stares from quite a number of passengers waiting for their flights. I suppose a young lady dressed in flashy white pvc, holding hands with a sullen lad nearly twenty years old, carrying a teddy was unusual.
    We had over an hour to wait, so having booked in, I led Johnny and teddy to the shop. I went to the clothing section, and found a rail of clothes that this time would be suitable.
  I wanted him to choose, and he looked for a little while, I guessing which one of two I thought he might prefer. He surprised me, by turning round and pointing shyly to a dress behind us.
It was very much like my own white pvc dress, but it was size extra large.
  After I had failed to persuade him of this, an argument brewing, I let him try it on in the changing room. I held his teddy as he eagerly took off his boyish attire and became a young miss, only a slightly comic looking miss, as the hemline was nearly round his ankles. He looked disappointed at first, but whispered "belty," and I went out and found a belt. I also found him a matching pvc beret, this he snatched enthusiastically and placed on his head.
I tightened the belt, and though the dress was three sizes too large, he was happy with it, that's what mattered. He picked up teddy and grabbed my hand, and took me to the checkout.
  The assistant was undoubtedly surprised, but took the money and as we walked out, I praised him for not molesting anyone, and smiled,
  "I think I should call you by another name, don't you?" A nod.
"How about Jeannie?" Another nod.
So Jeannie and I walked hand in hand over to our waiting plane.

  Though Jeannie behaved perfectly during the flight, I noted an increasing tendency to put her thumb back into her mouth, which she quickly checked, I think to please me. It was a happy trip.
  But once at my university campus, I realized this thumb syndrome was becoming more marked, she was after all growing, yet her natural desire seemed to be to suckle.
She also began to choose her own dresses that were ever more sissy in style. But very attractive in their own way.
  After a fortnight, I perceived action needed to be taken. She was again reverting to nuzzling me, and though she would check herself, it would only be a matter of time before the urge became too strong. "Milky," she would begin to call out in louder tones, and in the supermarket or in the college refrectory, that can be a trifle embarrassing.

   So the only solution I considered viable was what Mrs Brown had concluded,  to allow Jeannie to suckle. After my previous experiences with Bianca, once known as Brian, I deemed it inadvisable to involve myself personally, but an indirect approach to a colleague was immediately rebuffed. I did ask two of my more sissy minded students, and though Lianne was willing, I pompously decided she was too immature, there was more danger in her becoming too involved with her subject- at least I could appreciate the pitfalls.
  So that evening, when Jeannie started nuzzling me once again, I cuddled her in a comfy seat in my office, ready to allow her to suckle me.
  Lianne I had allowed, at her request, to watch. I felt this might help her student thesis in which one aspect she was researching was Motivation that Makes a Sissy.
I also felt a third person might also be beneficial to me, in case I got carried away! In fact Lianne saw the warning signs and perhaps wisely urged me to think again.
  I had to admit she was right.
  "What about contacting Shirley?" Lianne proposed.
  We hadn't had any contact with Shirley for a few weeks, not thru my choice but hers. But would she agree to help?
I knew she had been busy sitting her law finals.
  Lianne phoned her and she was willing to help.
 Exams over, Shirley was gonna set up her practice to help young girls, but said shed be pleased to come evenings to help.
  So the next night, she presented herself at our faculty to look after our Jeannie overnight.
We explained to her our aim with young Jeannie.
The purpose of our caring for her was to cure her of her thumb syndrome and thus enable her to relate with others her own age. Jeannie's sexual status was not our primary concern. It would be up to her whether she wanted to be sissy or develop late.
 We had various strategies planned, one of which we hoped would achieve our goal. This breast feeding was maybe the simplest method.
  I reasoned that to date Jeannie had been frustrated in her attempted suckling, and that giving in to her desires would obviate her desire to thumb suck. Shirley had been pregnant and could give Jeannie real experience fulfilling her needs!     
  I'll never forget that first meeting between Shirley and her little Jeannie.
   Jeannie was in her usual position, huddled in a corner, thumb sucking, awaiting bedtime. She looked up and cried "bottle." That was what she loved before being tucked in, though I suspected it was only a substitute for the real thing. In this I was right, for as Shirley walked over to the corner, her arms outstretched, Jeannie actually kneeled up to receive Shirley's embrace.
  As soon as Shirley had her arms round our baby, Jeannie began to nuzzle Shirley's bosoms, poking out from her silky shirt that was covered by the smart suit I had first seen her in.
  Jeannie was so conditioned now to a polite rejection, that she looked almost stunned when Shirley sat down, still clutching her baby.
With Jeannie on her knees, she unbuttoned her suit so Jeannie could brush her face over her silky breasts. I could see she didn't wear a bra.
Jeannie looked so pleased at being allowed to do what she really wanted. 
Maybe she would have been content to merely move her mouth over the hidden nipples, but maybe not. For she did seem to be becoming ever so much excited at the welcome her mummy was allowing.
   Shirley took the initiative by unbuttoning her shirt, and with Jeannie strangely unsure, she resolved the matter, but pushing Jeannie's mouth on to her large red left nipple. Jeannie purred with pleasure, and Shirley contentedly fondled her new baby.
   Suddenly there was a sound of intense appreciation from inside Jeannie. The milk was flowing! Sucking sounds intensified as baby frenzedly lapped up this unexpected treasure. If Shirley wasn't enjoying it, I would have been surprised, though she sat impassively as her child emptied her bosom.
Then the other one. I was half resentful it wasn't me feeding from Shirley as I had in the past, and then slightly resentful that it wasn't me feeding my little one. If only I could be as objective as I'd promised myself, and like Shirley was being!

  Next morning when Jeannie awoke, she was instantly gratified with more of Shirley's replenished milk. Then Shirley had to leave for work, and Lianne and I kept a close eye on our patient to see when, or if, she regressed to her thumb.
   But the satisfaction of breast feeding had removed her desire to thumb suck, and this simplest solution was turning out the most effective.
 By the time Shirley returned at teatime, Jeannie was still gurgling happily in her corner, thumb severely alone. We had wondered if we should feed her by bottle over lunch, but as she had not indicated she was thirsty we had left it. But as soon as Shirley came in, there was Jeannie rushing up to her.
  "Hello, my precious," Shirley greeted her, "mummy's weady for you."
  And as she unzipped the pretty pink blouse she was wearing today,  I had to stop myself from becoming over excited. Be objective Anastasia, I had to force myself.
  Jeannie clung to Shirley as she fed. And after it was over too.  I hadn't seen her smile much, but she was beaming inside for sure.

  It was the same every night and morning for a week, happy days, then we moved to phase two, in which Shirley came only in the evening.
This was less tiring for her, and we needed to wean our baby.
  We had to explain this to Jeannie. Shirley kissed her goodnight as usual, then said she was sorry she couldn't come again until tomorrow evening. Would Jeannie be a good girl until she came back? Jeannie looked doubtful, but nodded her head when Shirley pressed for an answer. But I sensed problems.

  Oh yes, that next morning was difficult. Jeannie was very upset when she found her mummy wasn't there to feed her. We had a bottle ready but our powers of persuasion were cried down by baby, who had begun bawling. calling out 'Mummy, Milky,' to distraction.
  We tried every ploy. Cuddling, kissing, Lianne said she would breast feed baby, but I stopped her.
  "You haven't any milk," I explained, though it was more than that. I wondered if Lianne might be a little over enthusiastic, maybe she wanted the sensation of her nipples being suckled?
   It was hopeless and Jeannie had retreated to her corner, curled up and I waited for the inevitable. Thumb in mouth and for the first time in a week we heard her pee into her diaper.
Thank goodness we had kept her diapered, just in case!

   We were relieved when Shirley came back about six. This time Jeannie, as if in remonstrance, ignored her, and pulled herself closer in to avoid any contact.
But Shirley was past master at rejection, and lifted her baby in her arms, and there were those ripe juicy breasts awaiting their sucker. Again, I had to dismiss the desire to gorge myself on her, I think I'd have been pushed aside anyway by Jeannie in her excitement. She quickly began to suckle, past forgiven.
 We discussed with Shirley what we ought to do tomorrow. We decided on the carrot approach.
  Shirley tucked Jeannie in with the promise she'd be back next evening,  please try and be a good girl.
But Jeannie had turned her head away and thumb was in her mouth.
   "Mummy will bring you a nice present if you are a good girl," she promised.
Slowly Jeannie turned her head to Shirley.
 "Well, if you are a good girl, I'll bring you a new dress, would you like that?
Jeannie nodded slightly. "What sort of dress?"
 "What sort would you like darling?"
 Jeannie thought a while.
 "Mummy bwing me a fluffy white onesie, with lots of nice bows on. Pwease."
 "I'll try dear, only I won't bring it if they tell me you have been naughty."
  Jeannie promised to try her best.
  "And Jeannie, mummy doesn't like you sucking your thumb, so don't do that either."
  With that surprise threat, Shirley left promptly. I don't think anyone had called her thumb sucking naughty before, and it evidently made its mark coming from Shirley. Of course she'd been smacked by Dr Jackson and teased by her peers, but I hoped this from Shirley might bring a lesson home to her.

  Next day, we observed Jeannie closely. Several times we witnessed her inner struggle not to suck her thumb. But she did resist.
  She accepted our bottle feeding and she was in a state of arousal as six o'clock drew nearer.

  When the hour passed and no sign of Shirley, the clouds were beginning to roll.
That pent up expectation and suppression of her thumb sucking desires were fighting inside her. I thought she was about to explode.
 Evidently we had a long way to go with this case.
  I learned later why Shirley was half an hour later than usual. She had located a pretty onesie which was covered in beautiful fluffy strands of white attached to a black pvc material base. I guessed it was some tart's plaything, but Shirley had been late cos she had been sewing bows to it, to make it look a lot more sissy, much less sexually alluring.
 The onesie was an undeniable success. The face of anger Jeannie had been building up vanished, as she understood Shirley had kept her promise.
  It was a happy evening.
  Our problem now was, we could not keep giving carrots like this indefinitely. But for the moment we had to.

So over the next fortnight our baby had several new dresses, a new cuddly teddy to match her English one, a doll to play with, and a dvd of tales specially for sissies.
Gradually we made the presents less expensive, and even had a pressy-less night. All the time, that thumb was inactive, and Jeannie seemed more content too.
   The big test of our progress loomed. Shirley could not come indefinitely, her new law business was demanding ever more of her time, and she advised us she couldn't afford to become even more involved with Jeannie. Besides, she wanted to get her bosoms back to their normal small size, and all this feeding was making them ever bigger!
   So Shirley said a last goodbye to Jeannie, with the promise she would come back one day, and the hope Jeannie would continue being "good girlies."

   Jeannie kept asking when Shirley would be back. All we could say was, one day. We couldn't offer more and that wasn't enough for our girl.
Though we tried giving little sweeteners, we couldn't make up for Shirley's absence.
Lianne wanted to take some tablets to help her to be able to give milk, but I knew this wasn't wise, and in any event, we wanted Jeannie to move forward.
If she couldn't develop without needing breast feeding, she would never be cured.

   Thus very reluctantly, as her behavior reverted back to the old Jeannie, we resorted to a new strategy.
She was back in her corner and wetting her diapers. She had valiantly not succumbed to her thumb in the hope of Shirley coming back, but emails were not enough comfort, specially as no date for her return was given.
  It came. After one specially distaught morning with another disappointing email, she plopped her thumb deep into her mouth.
 So we commenced Plan B. It was an admission of failure for our previous efforts, all the more sad cos I felt we had been almost in sight of success.
Should I have allowed Lianne to breastfeed her? No, that looked very risky.
 Plan B was unsophisticated, really only an extreme variation on Dr Jackson's unthoughtful approach. But at least we had it mapped out and as Jeannie's guardian I had the right to take this tough action.
   So immediately that thumb went in, Plan B went into force.
   Force was the word.
   "Jeannie," I warned in a fiercer tone than I had ever employed with her before, "take that thumb out this instant. You know we've told you not to."
   Curled up tighter, Jeannie sucked for all she was worth.
   "I'm warning you. You'll be punished." No response. She was waiting to see what the threat was.
   "Okay, then, as you won't behave, we are taking your dresses away."
   Still no reaction. Lianne wheeled the rail of pretty sissy clothes out the room.
   Teddies and doll even the dvds went the same way.
  "Right, Jeannie, this has got to stop."
   I went to her corner and roughly prised her apart as it were. She had to uncurl under my strong pressure. I held her as she struggled when she understood our intentions. Lianne was pulling off her precious onesie! It was her cherished memory of Shirley and she was not yielding without a struggle. 
  But the two of us had to win out. So there, kicking and screaming in our grasp, was Jeannie, naked except for her angry diaper.
  It had all happened so swiftly. It was the shock treatment in extremis. For this I had consulted my senior professor, who had agreed that this extreme treatment  was the only resort left to us.
  I forcibly removed the offending thumb, but as soon as I had let her hand go, back went that thumb. It was a battle of wills and she was not gonna win it.
After several times repeating this process, as we had failed in our objective, I told Lianne we'd move on to smacking.
  Jeannie heard me, as I intended, but it made no difference. Still wriggling, we had to tie her hands to the door, and then she could only kick with her feet. I had bought along a device, in case it was needed, that clamped her feet to the floor by the aid of very powerful electromagnets. With both feet enclosed by the magnets, we succeeded in pulling first her left foot into the locking magnet, then her right, splayed two foot apart, so that she had to assume a half crouching position.
  "We are only doing this," I addressed our victim, "cos you won't do what you are told. As a lesson to make you behave we are gonna smack you until it hurts.
Before I begin, I warn you not to let there be a next time. For if there is, it will be worse, much worse."
  Jeannie only whimpered and tried to sag her body to prevent any smack from being too effective.
But Lianne crouched under her, in the space by the door and pushed out her crotch so that her backside was in the ideal place for a heavy smacking.
  I opened the palm of my hand.
  "This is for your good. We want you not to be teased by your peers, and to make friends with them. You won't do that if you persist in thumb sucking.
Do you understand?"
  No answer. My hand measured aim. It crashed on the wet diaper with a thud that jolted her and only Lianne's presence stopped her wilting.
But Lianne was exceptionally effective in ensuring the pain was hundred percent effective.
  After two more heavy beatings, Jeannie was crying.
  Having pity, I untied her right hand from the door. I wasn't going to untie the other until I was sure.
  Just as well, for Jeannie's first move was to insert her thumb defiantly in her mouth, deliberately making a sucking sound to annoy us further.
  So we tussled anew to remove the thumb, it was tough against such a determined opponent.
   Tied up again, I reminded her of my threat. Lianne was sent away, while I removed the wet diaper.
  Lianne came back with a teat. This was tied to Jeannie's mouth, so that her previous antic with the thumb could hardly be repeated. The teat was wedged into her mouth, not removable except at our say so.

  I think Jeannie did look worried now as my hand was raised again.
  It was gonna descend on her bare buttock with such a smash that it would be smarting red, and aching beyond bearing.
  Crash! I thrashed my hand down so the sound rang round the room, as Jeannie yelped. The imprint of my hand was clearly visible on her bum.
  A second heavy smack. I was determined to land it exactly where the first had landed, to make her really yell. She did, and Lianne had to support her so she remained in position for a third affliction. This hit Jeannie precisely where her skin was rawest, and she could take no more. 
Surely we had forced her to yield?
  I asked the question.
  "Will you promise not to thumb suck the rest of today?" I asked, almost begged.
  There was no response from the shaking girl.
  "You know what this means?" I hesitated, hoping for some indication of acquiescence.
  No, she was determined.
  My hand raised once more. She flinched in anticipation. But my attentions were now on her other buttock, and after three hefty beatings on that, she was in a state of collapse.
  "Promise?" I said quietly.
  I think I had bullied her positive response. It was only a slight nod, but she meant it.
   "No more thumb sucking today, that's what you promised," I reminded her.

  She sighed visibly as we released her from the door. Then the current was turned off and her feet were released.
Her first movement now took  even me by surprise. That thumb fetish seemed impossible to shift. For there in her mouth she had inserted both thumbs. It was beyond belief.
  We had a contingency plan. But before we did that, we spent five minutes fighting her all over again, fixing her in her place of punishment.
  "If necessary, we can leave you here for ever," I screamed. I didn't mean that, but perhaps it would make her reflect.
  "We've got beyond smacks," I explained in anger. "Lianne, fetch the rope."

   It was a fearsome whipping Jeannie received as the rope thumped on her already aching bum. Across both buttocks the whip descended mercilessly. She all but passed out.
   We untied her and as she was still half conscious, wrapped huge mittens round her wrists so she could not possibly suck anything more than the tips of these extra large mittens.
 Then we left her to recover, and to think about it all, in her bare room. Only her cot was left.

  A week later, we were due to remove the mittens. I had planned this before I received a call from Shirley, asking for help. Her business was in trouble, and though  I knew little about law, I sensed she needed a shoulder to cry on. So I left Lianne in charge, and she brought in fellow graduate Chelsea to help her. I hoped I'd be only a few days away, and left instructions for Jeannie to be kept in mittens until I got back.

  As it happened, Shirley's problems were as much emotional as anything. She was being sued by her very first client. Though she was insured, it had deeply scarred her.
  I put my arms round her and let her cry on my shoulders. As her tears trickled down my blue chiffon dress, I was soaked and the outline of my breasts were clearly protruding from the material. It was no time before I was allowing her to fondle them, to suck them, to gorge herself on them, and she looked a lot more cheerful.
As for me, I was hotter than I had ever been. At long last I was being her mummy again, and I pulled down the soaking dress so she could taste me in the flesh. As she sucked out her woes on my nipples, I came and came in my pvc pantie so it was soaked beyond saturation. But I was happy, so happy I had been able to offer her some practical comforts.

  Back to Jeannie. It was well past the time when we should have tested the success of Plan B. Had our severe negative approach done the trick? I was looking forward to finding out as I drove back. I sure hoped it had worked, or I was stumped what to do next. I had had to force myself to leave Shirley, but I needed to get back to celebrate Jeannie's twentieth birthday.

  Imagine my surprise when I joined up with Lianne and Chelsea. Proudly they presented me their new child, smiling and happy. I ought to have reprimanded them for releasing Jeannie without authority, but the obvious success of the project  nullified it. I hadn't expected our negativity to achieve such positive results.

   It hadn't, I learned later. We celebrated Jeannie's birthday. My pretty babydoll dress was one of several gifts. Lianne and Chelsea had clubbed together to buy some new furniture for Jeannie's room, whom I gathered wanted to stay with us, if it were possible. I told my helpers they could claim their expenses, but they insisted on paying  for the cute sissy furniture themselves. I told Jeannie I was sure we could extend our study for a while, then maybe, I couldn't promise, but maybe we could find her a role assisting in my university department.
She beamed, and it was a very happy sissy that danced her way to her freshly decorated sumptuous new bedroom.
  Once she had been tucked in, I was keen to hear if Lianne had had to resort to any further punishments before reaching this happy result.

  "We tried a different approach," Lianne admitted. "We knew you wanted the project to be a success, and were worried it might not be. So, so, er," she hesitated.
  I urged her to explain how this miracle had come about.
  "I'll try," said Lianne. She looked at Chelsea. "Well, er, we, you see, we thought we would take a leaf out of your book, what we had learned from you!"
  I was puzzled and waited to find out what on earth she meant.
  "Well, Anastasia, we remembered how you told us about your success with Bianca that got you your professorship, and our last project together with Shirley."
 "Er yes, but Shirley never became a sissy, she wasn't a success." As I said the words, I suddenly remembered how I had left her. "Well, she wasn't a failure, I conceded, but what are you trying to tell me?"
  Chelsea took up the story as Lianne couldn't find the words.
  "You see, Anastasia, Lianne said we could try the personal approach."
  I nodded, recalling her suggestions about breastfeeding Jeannie herself.
  "But I told you not to." I looked straight at Lianne.
  "But Lianne thought it might work," went on Chelsea, determinedly. "And it sure did."

  I jolted. I was pleased but worried what they were telling me. I'd gotten too involved in my previous projects but I thought I'd learned my lesson and conveyed that to them. Apparently not.
  "I breastfed Jeannie," Lianne admitted quietly. "It was lovely. She just needed a Shirley-substitute and I gave her that. She suckled me and I fed her the milk she craved. Those tablets helped me fulfil her desires."
  "But she'll grow out of that and want more breastfeeding," I interjected. "We went thru all that before with Shirley. If she isn't fed each day at least, she'll be back to thumb sucking. And I thought..." my voice tailed away.
  "Oh no, Anastasia," explained Chelsea. "You've seen her. Doesn't she look a new creature?"
  I had to concede that.
  "Though she don't say much," Chelsea continued, "she did whisper thank you to Lianne for feeding her. She also said she loved it when you beat her."
  I was taken aback.
  "She wanted it to carry on, she said. Only it was too painful. Your smacking would never have worked. She said it reminded her of how she was treated at her home."
  I nodded. "So tell me, how did you get her to sparkle so?"
  Again there was hesitation. I had an inkling of what was coming.

  "Well, yesterday morning I fed her for the second time," went on Lianne. I was full up with my milk again, and was longing for Jeannie to wake up.
I was stroking her hair as she slept in her cot, I-I think I was falling in love with her. And then, and then she awoke and looked up and smiled at me, and I was sure I loved her."
   Chelsea added, "they looked lovely together, you know, Anastasia. Lianne lifted her out the cot and they sat on the comfy chair and Lianne pulled up her dress and her little baby began to feed from her.
  "Mmmm," agreed Lianne joyfully, "it was heavenly. She pulled at my bosoms and  was making me splash my milk into her."
  Both were silent as Lianne relived that precious first moment.
  I hadn't quite guessed right however what followed, as Chelsea took the story up.
  "As Jeannie lay there, head on Lianne's arm and happily suckling, I saw her diaper begin to stretch. It suddenly was at point of bursting! Lianne couldn't see, but I could make out the shape of Jeannie's cock which had suddenly become very erect. I thought I should unfasten the diaper..."
  "Was that wise?" I asked. Though I had to admit to myself I would have wanted to do that also.
  "It was almost forcing itself out the diaper. So I freed it." She paused growing quite hot at the recollection.
  "Wow, it was big and fat, juicy too, I can tell you. I told Lianne and she whispered something to Jeannie."
  "Yes, I told her 'my little sissy girl is feeling all naughty is she?' She nodded back to me."
  "Then Lianne stopped feeding her for a moment."
  "Actually it was Jeannie who stopped, cos she whispered in my ear what she most desired. Then her happy mouth searched out my nipple again to continue her feast.
I relayed to Chelsea what Jeannie wanted."

  "I had guessed that already! But what she wanted was  jus'  squeeze it very very tightly.  It was pretty horny getting my hand round that strong cock that was poking up there, it was like the lull before the storm, ready to erupt. When I grabbed it, I felt it resist and I did what she had ordered. I squeezed and squeezed.
I felt it shiver and I pressed it and pressed it until it was all but crushed in my hand, then out spattered her cum all over her naked body, over her face and over Lianne too. I remember seeing the cum dripping off her bosoms."
  "I was soaking," Lianne took up the tale, "but happy Jeannie had after so long been able to express herself. I went to clean up, but Jeannie called out and I put my ear to her dripping mouth, milky cum over her lips, and she thanked us and then whispered to me what she most wanted for us to do now."
  "So this is why she's so happy," I concluded with a smile.
  "Only partly. There's a bit more yet, "explained Lianne.
  Chelsea went on. "Jeannie asked that we collect up as much of her first cum as we could. She said she had longed for this for so long, since she had seen the other boys in the home playing with the girls at night time. Though they had often invited Jeannie to join in, it had always been a tease and they had never allowed her, taunting her that she was till a big baby. She wants to act like them and prove to herself she's can act like a slut also. Only she still loves being a sissy, and a baby too."

  "Jeannie asked not to be cleaned up, so she would look as slutty as could be," continued Lianne. "She told me to type out a note for the campus noticeboard.
I had to type
Then come tonite at 9 to....'
  When I showed it to her, she asked me to add in one extra word before the word sissy. I wrote by hand her request: Virgin."

  So that evening a crowd of about twenty, mostly male students, were standing expectantly in the sissy bedroom. Promptly at nine, Lianne called out from the doorway,
"Make way for the Virgin Sissy Slut."
Jostling thru the amazed spectators were two nubile girls, Lianne and Chelsea in red pvc tops and shiny black pvc skirts, to wolfcalls, increased to jeering ribaldry when they saw they were each pulling a chain at the end of which was a pathetic figure in pigtails dressed a fluffy white onesie, crawling along, to increased laughter, when the watchers saw pinned to Jeannie's rear the legend I am a Virgin Sissy Slut.
   Various shouts like give us a kiss sweetie, and worse, accompanied the procession as it made its way to a platform on which was the slut's cot.
 The prisoner was dragged on to this and made to lie on her bed. The chains dropped limply to the floor, Lianne and Chelsea, still linked inextricably to their slut, kneeling by her cot.
  "We want one volunteer," announced Lianne. There was a surge forward!
  "One, I said, the rest of you are, as we announced, only here to punish this slut. After what you witness tonite, she will deserve it."
  The crowd, disappointed, sat down obediently.
  "The volunteer will have a name beginning with."
   A long pause awaited Lianne's next word.
  "The letter is." She turned to  Chelsea.
  From a Scrabble bag, she drew out the letter C. There was a sigh of disappointment from many.
  But two stood up. Two students, one we knew was Charley, the other Lianne recognised as a worker in the canteen, Cynth.
   To decide which was chosen, Chelsea drew out a second letter.
"Which ever of these two's second letter is nearest to this, is the one. It's.... another C!"
  Some dispute over who thus qualified, but Lianne was relieved that it was not Charles. He seemed wild.
 Cynthia was late twenties, buxom like Chelsea, strong as well, ideal for part of her role. She knelt beside the two in charge. 

  Her first small task was told by Chelsea to the crowd.
  "This slutty creature is named Jeannie. She is a naughty sissy girl who needs to be taught a lesson by you. So be ready because you watch what she gets up to. You can see smears of her cum sticky all over her face when the naughty girl splashed Lianne when she was breastfeeding her this morning."
  Sissy kicking her legs in the air made the tassles on her onesie fly in all directions. As she kicked harder, Lianne and Chelsea could see, what the crowd could not yet, that her cock was growing and growing.  Cynth, standing by awaiting instructions gasped, her eyes almost flew from their sockets as flying out the poppers at the bottom of the fluffy onesie was the slut's throbbing cock.
  Cheers from everyone.
  "Shh," cried Lianne, "this shameless slut will now show you why she deserves her rich punishment."
  "Cynth, please take a letter from the bag," went on Chelsea excitedly. "Our slut is ready for either myself or Lianne. No not you," Chelsea hastily added to Cynth, who was perhaps disappointed. "What is that letter Cynth?"
  "It's H!"
  A buzz of calculations.
Lianne was smiling. She had hoped she might be first.
  Cynth was handed a whip and instructed to flail it across Jeannie's chest. It smacked down on the onesie with some beef.
  "Jus' keep doing that as sissy slut's first phase of her punishment."
  So down came the whip again.
  On the third stroke, Lianne shifted her position so she was at the end of the cot. She crouched up on the cot to catcalls, and opened her mouth fully. Her intention was plain to all, but she milked the moment.
  "I love you sissy slut. Have you got something for me?"
  Jeannie was too busy flinching from the lashes to answer.
  "Then let me have it!"
  She moved her open mouth down over Jeannie's erect cock, holding it a foot from its target.
  She displayed her hand which paused to wait for the next descent of the whip.
  As the whip crashed down, Lianne prepared to grasp the busting cock,
that excited everyone, specially the owner who despite another whip, cried  out,
"I'm a sissy slut. Kiss me!" And she arched her bottom so that it eluded the grasp and pushed her cock up to Lianne's mouth.
Lianne shut it at once, and moved out of reach. Then she opened her waiting mouth again.
"Virgin Sissy slut won't be stopped," Jeannie cried, and now she arched up her head so that she was almost in a fetal position.
Her mouth opened to lick Lianne's pussy, but this was covered by a layer of pvc. It ripped in Jeannie's bite.
"You won't stop sissy slut," she yelled, but Lianne shoved her head back on the cot and tantalized the cock with a light touch. Then she squeezed it for all she was worth.
 The crowd gasped, and then cheered, as at once Jeannie shot out her cum into Lianne's welcoming opening.
Some of it Lianne was seen to enjoy swallowing, the rest she swilled round her mouth as  the whipping ceased so  the onesie could be stripped off.
Then Lianne splashed the cum out her mouth on to Jeannie's bare chest.

  "Isn't she a sissy slut?" asked Lianne, pulling at the pigtails.
  "Cynth, keep hold that whip. You've seen nothing yet. We're gonna show you how slutty this sissy really is."
  Chelsea moved into Lianne's position, crouching over the wilted cock. Lianne went to crouch over the other end.
   "Start the whipping again, Cynth. Same place."
   This time the flail splashed down and sent cum flying in all directions. Some landed on Lianne, some on Cynth, and some  on to the cheering front watchers.
  After several lashes, Jeannie started to get slightly aroused. The drooping cock was seen to elongate ever so slightly.
  "What a sissy slut you are," called out Lianne. "Turn her over Chelsea and lie under her."
  The mass of chains were getting entangled by now, but the slut was made to crouch on the cot, as Lianne slipped a loose fitting pink babydoll dress on her.
"Here's the sissy who loves being a slut, she told the crowd. "Your turn to punish her soon."
Then she lifted Slut's rear and pointed to where Cynth's whipping should land.
  "As hard as you can," reminded Lianne, who then lay on the top end of the cot under Sissy Slut.

  The cracks on Jeannie's bum warmed her, though it was clear she was temporarily spent.
  As Cynth continued the thrashing, Chelsea prepared the slut for her exciting finale.
 Chelsea was under the still floppy cock, dangling a foot above her mouth. Lianne lay next to her, similar posture.
  She told everyone. "This dildo here was filled with naughty slutty's cum this morning. She wanted it to be kept ready for tonight. When she is ready Sissy Slut will squirt us both."
  Chelsea grasped Mr Floppy and squeezed. Was it gonna work?  Lianne waited above the suspended dildo. At least that was stiff and ready!
  "I think it's coming," called Chelsea, as she gripped on to the expanding object. She felt it fighting her closed hand to be released.
Suddenly it burst out her palm to applause from the boys. It was full of life again.
"I'm a real sissy slut," called out Babydoll in ecstasy, "I'm the sissiest slut you ever saw."
Forcefully, the luscious cum sprayed into Chelsea's mouth. At the same time, Jeannie knew to spray her dildo at Lianne.
Two satisfied customers for the price of one. Jeannie collapsed on the cot as Chelsea and Lianne rolled the cum in their mouths.
  Both sprayed the cum over the slut to renewed cheers. Cynth was last seen grabbing some of the action for herself.
   "This Sissy Slut must be punished," announced Lianne. "Draw out your cocks and pussies and please shower the slut as we take our leave of you."
  With things veering out of control, Lianne and Chelsea grabbed at the tangled chains and pulled the exhausted but smiling babydoll off her cot.
As they pushed their way thru the excited crowd, cum was flying everywhere. It was supposed to land on the slut, but Lianne and Chelsea received their fair share.
"Naughty sissy slut, naughty sissy slut," was the shout as they took their leave. The three succeeded in escaping to their own quarters, and locking their door, leaving a satisfied crowd wanting more.
Lianne kissed her lovely sissy slut. I think they may have done more after I'd left.

  "Wow," said Professor Anastasia. "You certainly did take a leaf out my book. But you shouldn't have done it. But it seems to have worked with Jeannie for now."
Yet in my heart, I knew it was a permanent cure. Miss Suck-a-Thumb had better things to suck now.

 Chapter 5: Professor Anastasia, First University Lecturer in Sissyology. 
         Background on my First Year's Course.

  In tutorials, students and I have discussed what exactly constitutes Sissyness, and our agreed definition may not meet your approval, but it is what I use as the foundation for my lectures and research.
    So here goes.
    A Sissy is anyone who returns to their childish roots to be dominated.
This can be for voluntary pleasure, or it can be forced. The subject dresses up in pretty young girl's clothes, from any age, baby to little girl.
    She will always accept orders as to how to behave from her mummy, though only a good sissy will implicitly obey.
    Often, if a baby, she will adopt other baby traits, like being fed, wearing diapers, moving or crawling as appropriate for the particular age. 
    She will love to do all this, unless she is being forced to be a sissy. Often the forced aspect applies to boys, who may or may not want to be dressed and act as a sissy. In the latter cases, and with sissy girls who disobey their mummy, punishments are entirely appropriate, and smacking, deprivation, and forced feeding are an everyday part of a naughty sissy's world, that they may even actually sometimes like.
    But the good sissy will always be striving to be an even better sissy and please their mummy in every way. Aim: perfection in innocence.
Finally, it is important to state that these sissies are all adults regressing, and are all physically eighteen years of age or over, even if as sissies, they have reverted to eighteen months, or anything from eight days or even eight minutes.

My lectures are currently attended by twenty students, as one optional special study for their degree course. Half are men, half women, and I know half are also sissies themselves, the other ten vary from the sympathetic but curious, to a couple of the men who are perhaps here for the wrong reason.
But while the sissies contribute their experiences to the tutorials, only those who wished to do so, ten of them, wanted to be part of my study group into advanced research into sissy motivation as I label it.
I am working with my helper Lianne, whom I have already told you about, and we are assisted by the faithful Jeannie. Chelsea decided to leave after the Sissy Slut experience. Miss Shirley is also too busy with her business at present.

  I've already told you about my investigation into trying to persuade people to become sissies. So for my latest experiment I have the cooperation of these ten  sissies I mentioned.
    These comprise five men and five women.
Now I'm gonna be very objective, I've learnt my lesson, and I am gonna describe them to you objectively, with some details of each.
A is in his twenties and likes to be a baby girl aged a few months.
B is nineteen and likes to be a seven year old girl.
C is in his fifties and likes being about 9 months.
D is in his early twenties and likes being a little girl of four.
E is nineteen and enjoys being a baby of a few months.
V is in her late thirties and likes being a baby of a few months.
W is in her twenties and also plays at being a baby of a few months.
X is eighteen and is happiest as a little girl aged about three.
Y is just twenty also and likes being a year old girly.
Z is in her early twenties and prefers to be a seven year old.

The issues Lianne and I are examining are these:
1 is there such a thing as a perfect sissy?
2 whether sexual activity is appropriate in sissies.
3 is being a sissy contrary to mainstream religious teaching?
4 what is the youngest age a sissy can regress to?

Our method is to have practical days/nights with these ten.
Some of the activity is put on to dvd to be presented in my lectures,
in which I present my conclusions with the whole class of twenty, and we also hold four tutorial groups, run by myself and Lianne to discuss issues raised.

 The main study, number one, is devoted to the qualities of the Perfect Sissy.

  Each of the ten sissies was asked to spend an hour with us demonstrating what they believed were the qualities that make for The Perfect Sissy. Afterwards the results were analyzed and presented in the form of lectures with accompanying photos and videos.
For the purposes of this study, we divided the group into a) Adult Babies, total six, and b) Youngsters, comprising the other four.

Group a)
All presented themselves in diapers of varying colors and materials, pink inevitably was most popular. Frilly dresses with bows were universal, materials were mostly soft to the touch.
Bootees were most popular, though a couple had no footwear. Bonnets were again worn by four, but two preferred to show off their wigs. In fact five selected wigs of one kind or another, no common color of hair or length. One male was bald. All men were close shaved, and all women had chosen dresses to conceal as far as possible their own bosoms. The two girls with the largest wore tight fitting bras that compressed their breasts.
From this, one can conclude that the outward appearance is important, but is easily achievable with effort, but there are as many equally valid notions of the appearance of a sissy. We were not running a Sissy Beauty Competition, and it's the inner qualities that are harder to quantify.
Movement varied depending on age, but the one year old babies crawled happily, while the others had a more studied helplessness, rolling about on their changing mat.
All let 'mummy' change them, and all suckled the blow up mummy we provided or drank from a feeding bottle offered. All also were spoon fed.
  Some interesting issues were raised. Does a Perfect Sissy have to be fed perfectly, ie without making a mess? Or if they are very young, should they be making lots of mess eating?
The consensus was, it depends on the notional age, for at a few months sissies will make a mess over their dresses, but should be starting to feed themselves by age one.
  Another debate revolved around the functions the other end. Given that babies have to urinate and excrete, should the perfect sissy be using a potty?
Again we decided it depended on their age. The important thing was, the sissy is not embarrassed or necessarily aware of doing it.
Groups a) and b)
Again this is age related. The youngest should be making some noises but be oblivious of other humans except family, while at one year baby should be starting to relate and making some vaguely comprehensible sounds. Our group found this harder to do convincingly, being unself-conscious about it is very much part of being a proper baby, and thus a proper sissy. The sissiness at this stage consists in ensuring the voice is not pitched low.

Group b)
Actions: Walking will be light of step, maybe skipping, dancing when happy, and enjoying holding hands with mummy. They may still suck thumbs on occasions.
The Perfect Sissy always does what mummy says, happily and unquestioningly.  Liking to please mummy is vital, and for the older sissies they will probably be intent on pleasing daddy and other family friends and relatives too. They like earning treats. They are eager to learn and ask questions.
Speaking may be with a lisp, or with a high pitched voice, or sing-song like, or maybe hardly at all, that is speak when spoken to.
They feed themselves very politely, though they may possibly still be spoon fed on occasions.
They will interact increasingly with other sissies, but be naturally wary of others. They will enjoy simple games. But they will also happily play on their own at times, loving to cuddle dolls or teddy bears and maybe play pretend games with them.
Very important for the perfect young sissy to look sweet and fetching, clothes are the essence of an excellent first impression. As with the other group, pink is the preferred color, but gentle light shades of yellow, lilac, or pale green can be equally striking. Bows, frills, laced hems, clothing with pretty pictures, and ruffles can all be components of the perfect outfit. A smart school uniform is an excellent alternative. Usually white socks and sandals, but older sissies can even start wearing pvc bootees,  though pvc isn't a recommended material for younger sissies, though I must admit I find it turns me on.
Those whose hair isn't naturally appropriate, have a wonderful range of wigs to select from. Hair color can be any, as long as not a fanciful modern lurid dye, perhaps blonde or ginger is best, maybe that's simply my own preference. Two old fashioned pigtails tied with bows can make for a winning look, but anything goes in style and length. Generally we feel, it should be plain hair and certainly nothing exotic, though curly hair is strongly favored by some sissies.

      Sissy Experiments
Experiment 1: We wanted to test reactions when mummy took Sissy in a large pushchair to a shop. E and Z both didn't want to go out in public and when we insisted E threw a tantrum, not wanting to be seen by anyone who might not be pro-sissy. Z refused to climb into the chair and insisted she wasn't going.
  We didn't force them, and of the other 8, all more or less happily went on the journey. The ones who had never let anyone see them as sissies were clearly more nervous of the experience. But a couple of them, D and X, so enjoyed it they waved periodically at passers-by. Most people passed us by pretending we weren't there, but a few stopped us, to ask Lianne and myself questions and these we tried to answer honestly.  They were women, mostly on the sympathetic lines of how we coped, but one lady did ask our sissy who happened to be X, and received a very genteel reply that she was the "bethteth wittle girl in de world."
   We took each sissy to a different shop to gauge reactions in the shops, these were mostly of the feigning not to notice type, though one young male assistant told our sissy, A, that he could see she wasn't a girl, wasn't a baby, and what did he **** think he was being so stupid for? While sissy crimsoned, we attempted to explain there was nothing shameful in being a sissy, better than being a loudmouth like you. That shook him, and we then went on to describe, as we did to any who asked, the nature of our experiments.  One other shop assistant did ask us about why we were purchasing feeding bottles and we engaged in a long conversation about the qualities of being a sissy.
  We had a set ploy, asking if the shop could provide us with changing facilities as 'baby' needed changing, or 'youngster' had had a slight accident. We were met, of course, with surprise, except for that rude man who told us to **** off, and the other garrulous helper who had digested our conversations and happily complied. The others did all find us somewhere private, though none asked us any questions, embarrassing or otherwise.

Experiment 2: Be smacked in a public place.
     This was only for those who were actually naughty.
But to get them to disobey we devised various 'traps,' some of which were decidedly manufactured in order that we could proceed with the experiment. However B, acting as an older sissy, steadfastly refused to be drawn, and we conceded she should not participate in this smacking experiment.
 Of the seven, five submitted to having their panties taken down and being smacked in the middle of a large hypermarket. These were D, V, W, X and Y.
The other two, A and C, both male, showed themselves very conscious of being seen in public undressed, and we might excuse their refusal to undergo this as due to a sense of public decency, though I felt it was their natural embarrassment, which would hardly be appropriate for a real sissy.
  So what was the trap?
All seven fell for it, when their mummy left them outside the washroom, while she popped in for a minute.
Some pictures of naked men and women were thumbed thru by all of them, and two, W and X, also fell for a dishy young man coming up to them and kissing them. Nothing wrong except it was their response. They began kissing back.
   Later these two claimed they thought it was a game, and when threatened with smacks, bawled their heads off and one jumped out their push chair and ran off, the other gripped the chair and could not be removed from it.

Experiment 3: Have physical alterations to make sissy more childlike. This depended on the sissy age.
But 100% agreed to removal of pubic hair.
Of the ABs Group a), two agreed to the removal of most or all of their teeth: though this was not followed thru.
All also agreed to wear mittens and have a pacifier whenever mummy told them.
All agreed to crawling.
Of the older four in group b), these had either to dance on stage in their sissiest costumes to a Shirley Temple number, or recite a poem, Mommy's Babby. All did so.
  These three experiments did show that though all were desirous of being very very good sissies indeed, there were occasions, as in experiment two, when absolute perfect sissyness is unlikely ever to be achieved.

So, could Sissyness be a Christian virtue?
    In the Anti-Sissy Experiment, we heard Jesus' command that his followers should be innocent and pure as doves, that we have to become like little children. In the church service, it was noted that we can only become like this, if we are born again, that means starting a new life following Jesus. Some  sissy virtues are very much akin to Christian teaching, for example, perfection in innocence, and wholehearted obedience. Trying to please is a sissy's aim, and Jesus' followers strive to please God, though they rely only on what Jesus has done, not their own goodness. Thus I believe that sissyness exhibits many Christian virtues, but it is not the same as being religious. The two are not incompatible, though you might disagree.

The main stumbling block to achieving perfect sissness is certainly the sexual overtones.
I will describe research into Sex and the Sissy in Chapter 7.
The issue of how far a sissy can regress, now follows.

    (In my next section, chapter 6, I will tell you about Kath, who had regressed into the babiest of baby sissies.)

Chapter 6:    Kath
   My experiment to help a Baby Sissy grow up.   

  Kath was referred to me by a psychiatrist who had been seeing this 28 year old for 2 years. In desperation, he'd turned to me. I explained that I am no doctor, and could only offer suggestions, but Dr Brown said he would be grateful for anything.
  Kath's background: she'd grown up a normal girl, extrovert, and had enjoyed many boyfriends from eighteen years of age. However when she became pregnant, her doting parents had cut off all links with her, and she rashly rushed into an abortion. This did not solve her problems, and, finding herself abandoned, she tried to make a new start in a new town- ours.
   But the extrovert became an introvert, a loner, and made no friends.
   Dr Brown had been called to her garden one warm evening, when neighbors had put out an emergency call. Kath had apparently been lying on a sunbed all day, and wasn't moving. Fearing the worst, they had dialed for help.
   But, though roasted from exposure to the sun all day wearing no clothes at all, she was breathing. But uncommunicative. She wouldn't respond to Dr Brown, who took her to hospital. Here she did state her name, but nothing else.
  Various treatments were attempted to help her talk, but she remained stubbornly silent. She would not help herself. She lay in bed all day. She would not eat or drink. The only reaction was when she was given shock treatment- she screamed. She did talk a little after that, mostly words of refusal. She had to be forced to swallow some pills "to help you get better."
  On the second day she was force fed. On the third she released the food in her hospital panties.
To cut the story short, this was the pattern for a year, every day she would mess the diaper that she had been obliged to wear.
  Her only reaction of note was after a few months, she evidently took a fancy to a dress a toddler visiting another patient was wearing, a pretty frilly lemon colored pinny, and she tried to snatch it.
She had to be stopped of course, but it gave Dr Brown the idea to have a similar pinny made in her own size, and when this was presented to her a week later, she did smile for the very first time. This was the beginning of a series of dresses being made for her, by a local dressmaker, Tamzin, who had been recommended by my old friend Shirley. She had become professionally interested in Kath's history, and it was thru Shirley that I had indirectly learned about Kath. I did visit her once in hospital, but it had been a bad day and she was not at all friendly towards me, and Dr Brown had made it clear that he didn't welcome my comments.
  For at this time Tamzin was making progress with Kath. The dresses would animate Kath like nothing else. It was her only positive sign of improvement.
 After this first year, she had become much thinner and her dresses had to be pulled in. For no discernible reason, she stopped talking even the few quiet sentences she exchanged with Tamzin.
No amount of shock treatment helped now, indeed it must have caused her to regress and all pills and shocks ceased.
 For she was after fifteen months, even thinner, and had begun to sick up her food. That stopped the need for diaper changes, which were now only wet, and she even began to resist attempts to have a diaper change.  This became a major struggle, the only time now she showed any response to other people. She continued to enjoy wearing her modified sissy clothing, but no longer showed any inclination to choose a dress for the day, or to put it on herself.
Two years on, Dr Brown contacted me again, apologizing for his earlier negativity.
  I was shocked myself when I saw how Kath had changed. She was curled up on her bed. I can only describe it as the fetal position. She is wasting away, the doctor had told me, and he was right. He had latched on to what he called her "dress fetish," as a possible route of reaching her again.
 I wasn't at all sure that was right, as I sat on Kath's bed, and put my arms round her. I remembered my previous lessons, and was determined to analyze this case objectively, but I instinctively felt it was love and attention that this little adult baby was craving.
   I sat there caressing Kath's body for a good ten minutes without any reaction from her.
  "I love your pink dress," I whispered in the end. Indeed I did like what I could see of it, it was in a soft pink velvet with large white frilly lace sewn round neck arms and hem.
  That made her turn towards me so I could see the front of the velvet dress. It had a picture of a golden teddy on it.  I added more words of admiration, but I received no more from Kath.
   After half an hour, I left with my farewells, in silence from her.

   I talked to Tamzin, who said she was amazed I had got anything out of her at all. Whereas Kath had been slightly forthcoming to her, now Tamzin could get nothing from her, and she hadn't made a new dress for Kath for several months. I promised to try and change that. As I was leaving, I bumped into Shirley, who was helping Tamzin with her own problems. It was the first time we'd met face to face for ages, we'd only talked over the phone, and as we smiled at each other, I remembered brightly that happy time when I had been her comforting mummy. I sensed it was what Kath needed. There wasn't time to exchange news with Shirley, but we both agreed we must fix up a date real soon. Not simply for chat, I hoped, and I hoped she felt the same.

  Consistent with my new policy on objectivity, having discussed my first ideas with Dr Brown, I took a present to Kathy on my second visit. I reckoned she had regressed to believing she was back in the womb, she was growing as it were in reverse. If we did not halt this reverse growth, perhaps she might wither herself into nothingness?
   She was in her accustomed fetal position on her bed, lifeless, wearing a hospital smock- evidently her dresses were no longer deemed worth putting on her. I resolved to make sure she was always wearing one of Tamzin's dresses in future.
  I put my arms round her as before. I couldn't admire her clothing this time, so I sat with her, stroking her hair and her upper body for a while, in silence. I couldn't help noticing how drawn she was, and her breasts, never big, had slumped into near nothingness.
  I produced my present. No recognition- it is for you, I said.
"Let's unwrap it." I think there was a glimmer in her eyes. I undid the bows and took off the pretty paper, to show her a life size sissy dress, my own favorite, in white pvc, but I had got Tamzin to add a large pink bow on a pink ribbon tied round the waist. I must add that the dress was placed on an inflatable life size doll that I proceeded to blow up.
  Kath had shown no interest, to my disappointment, but the noise of the doll being inflated made her turn towards me. She grabbed it, actually grabbed it, as I had completed the task. She held the doll close to her.
  I had a fight to show her what I wanted. This was that by unzipping the front, the doll's large bosoms were exposed. I pushed them on to Kath's mouth, and when she understood, she sighed. Her tongue closed in on one breast and she sucked. For almost a minute she enjoyed this, but suddenly threw the doll at me.
  There was no more from Kath that day.

   I discussed the undoubted progress we had made with Dr Brown, success was perhaps too strong a word for it. Later I phoned him, having thought thru some ideas, and he agreed I should try.
  I presented the inflated doll to Kath next afternoon. She pushed it away. After a tussle, I showed her the doll's nipple had milk dripping from it. She didn't see this at first, and I think it was only the drips that had begun to soak her pink pinny, that made her understand that dolly wasn't quite as yesterday. I hoped I had guessed why Kath had rejected the doll last time.  I was elated when my hunch was proved correct.
Kath was quickly suckling her mummy and feeding happily, the gurgling a fine indicator of her satisfaction.
  What we had done was fill the doll not with air but with milk, then drilled a hole in one nipple. The only drawback was that being full with milk, the doll would leak thru this nipple. But at least now it was leaking into Kath!
 After she had drunk maybe half the doll, she relaxed, and we had to snatch the doll away to prevent it leaking. This was a disaster for Kath became very distressed. Once we had expressed all the unused milk, she didn't want the deflated doll, so I blew it up, and she cuddled this for a time, until the leaking air had caused it to deflate.
  Then she cast it aside and showed no further interest in me.

  After my second attempt, we got into a routine. Two dolls solved the problem, one filled with milk, the other, for afterwards, with air. This was a definite success, and Kath would look forward to my daily bringing of the milk-doll, which was swapped temporarily with the air-doll so she could feed. We had two milk-dolls specially manufactured, with plugged nipples and an inside half filled with plastic, so that the doll need only be half filled with milk, the right amount that Kath liked. So now she was able to suckle her doll whenever she wished, we managed to teach her how to unplug the nipples so she could suckle at will.
   Her diapers were now being changed thrice daily, but she would always resist this action, and I decreed that diapers were not to be changed unless they became soiled. She had begun dirtying diapers after this long sick phase, and again we saw this as some kinda progress.

  A month on, and she surprisingly rejected her doll one day. I attempted to reinstate her mummy, but it was impossible. I tried the other milk-doll, but there was this sudden inexplicable rejection. I asked her, without expecting any response, what was wrong. I was surprised, indeed pleased, when she cooed out very quietly one word, it was mamma.
  Another consultation with the doctor. A second discussion and we had formulated our plan.

  My assistant Lianne was ideal for the purpose. She was by now heavily pregnant with Jeannie's child, and was agreeable to help Kath if at all possible. She would be taking maternity leave in a couple of weeks, so this was a long shot.
  "This is Mummy Lianne," I told the disinterested Kath, who had started to curl up again.
  It took some persuasion for Kath to look at Lianne, who smiled at the poor creature on the bed.
She held out both arms.
  There was no movement, Kath looked away.
 "Mamma wants to feed ooo," sang Lianne. "Please let mamma feed ooo."
  There was no movement, so Lianne went right up to her baby. She waited patiently, emitting little encouraging sounds.
Suddenly Kath turned round and grabbed Lianne's breast, fondling it intensely, almost ferociously, as though wanting to know it was real. Then she lifted her mouth to it, and suckled. At the same time, she fondled the other breast, again checking its authenticity. She sucked more strongly, and massaged the other breast more powerfully as the feeding proceeded enthusiastically. It was the strange mixture of childhood innocence and sexual fervor that puzzled us.
  Kath changed bosoms as Lianne sat patiently cradling her child. The groping and feeding were renewed, Kath trembling all over in her pleasure. Finally she subsided, tired, Lianne was spent also. It had certainly been a success.

  Kath made good progress in the next fortnight, feedings each morning and evening, but we dreaded the time when Lianne had to leave to have her own baby. By this time Kath was, I reckoned, at the age of nearly one, starting responding to others apart from Lianne, and beginning to crawl around her room. She was being fed with solids as well as Lianne's milk, and suddenly the future looked rosier. But then came Lianne's parting.  That difficult morning, Lianne tried to say goodbye, but had Kath heard or tried to understand? By now she was also fondling Lianne's huge bump as well as her large bosoms and in view of the occasion I allowed them longer. It was an hour before Kath had drunk her complete fill, and Lianne looked completely spent.
    As Kath went on fondling her mummy, my thoughts went back to the previous evening. Then, after seeing Kath settled down, I had rushed off to Shirley's. After six weeks, she had, after much pestering from me, found a time she was free.
I had been longing to see her again, I still remembered vividly our first meeting when she ravished me and I was like a father to her baby. And how lovely that time in the churchyard when I had suckled her joyfully.
At once I sensed that she was avoiding eye contact, avoiding my overtures to her bedroom. She talked of her job and its manifold problems, but how fulfilling it was helping women like Tamzin. She was most interested in my account of my success with Jeannie, as well as Kath's progress, and I steered the conversation at last to where I wanted it.
 "What do you make of her intensity in suckling, Shirley?"
 "I'm no expert like you, Miss Anastasia, but I would have thought she might be reliving her own abortion, and fantasizing how it might have turned out."
"Is that, d'you think, why she caresses that bump?"
"Well, it's only my idea, Miss Anastasia."
"D'you think, Shirley, she is really craving sexual experience?" I had got where I wanted, and pushed my hand on to Shirley's lap.
"It's possible,” she mused, as she stood up.
I looked disappointed straight at Shirley.
"What about you?" I stood next her. "Can I kiss you, Shirley?"
But I had met with hesitation, she was reluctant to talk more, and after coffee I had left frustrated, frustrated that she had not responded, frustrated that I could not fathom out why.

   I imagined Kath's feelings as Lianne kissed her farewell, were they like mine last night leaving empty from Shirley's? But Kath had us looking after her, I felt alone. Kath would be okay, I told myself. I had discussed long and hard with Dr Brown how we must ensure Kath does not regress from this point. If we could hold her at this point, then there was a chance of her slow development in the future, but would what we had in place keep up Lianne's good work? 
   We had after a long search found one expecting mother who was willing to help, but when we talked to her, she was entirely unsuitable, her attitude was uncaring and towards sissies she had nothing good to say. So we had had to ditch her, and were left with only a compromise for Kath's next feed.

  I will long remember that evening.
 After changing Kath, I rested her in bed as usual. She was looking distressed at Lianne's non appearance, and I closed the curtains so the room was almost dark. In the half light I introduced her to her new 'mamma.'  I fetched the inflatable doll in, and knelt beside the bed with it. I admit it was only a variation of the milk filled doll we had used before, but this one had been manufactured to special order at short notice and I hoped would be a winner. For it had huge breasts which we had filled with milk, and was otherwise one of those inflatable dolls that are battery powered and thus move in a near realistic imitation of the human body.
"Come on, Kath, mamma wanna to feed oo."
She had looked away, but turned toward me and the doll as I placed it aside her in bed and tucked her in. I was certain she had been ready to reject the thing, but feeling the movement she violently started biting its nipples, sucking simultaneously and pulling at the spare bosom in an agitated way.
   She relaxed slightly when she received some warm milk but continued fighting the thing as the bedclothes flopped to the side. I watched, hoping it would turn out well, but worried over Kath's extreme reaction.
  Now she moved her spare hand towards the bump which Lianne boasted, but of course found no such thing on this doll. As she sucked and swilled the milk in her mouth, and swallowed happily, the hand found the doll's opening that was its pussy. Still drinking, Kath thrust her finger sharply into the doll and tried to masturbate it. She became increasingly frustrated and pushed her hand ferociously into the hole, which split with a loud tearing noise. At the same time her other hand had clawed the breast so angrily that it burst, the remaining milk spilling over her bed. She began to show powerful anger at the thing and I was worried what might happen next.
"Mamma'll pull the nasty thing away," I tried to soothe baby. She grabbed me and pulled me on the wet bed next to her. My mind struggled with conflicting emotions. Objectivity and care- should I observe or help? There was only one course open to me, I was certain.

  It was uncomfortable in the wet bed, and uncomfortable as Kath clawed my pvc dress. She wanted feeding and I pulled down my zip, partly to spare my dress, and showed her in the pale darkness my shiny white breast. It was what she wanted, and she began feeding with an eagerness that swept me away. I felt my bosom sucked into her mouth like a tornado, my nipple pulled to stretching, my mind however, rejoiced that I might be helping her.
  But was I? I knew she would be frustrated when  I gave her no milk, so it was fortunate that there was always a feeding bottle by the bedside. I pushed the teat into her mouth and hoped that would satisfy her.
 She hesitated to drink from it, as her hands fondled my welcoming breasts. One hand slipped down to my bump, which she could not find. Her mouth withdrew from the teat. I knew we were at the crisis point.
 No proper milk, no bump, she was gonna ditch me like the doll.
But her finger had drifted down to my pussy, and at this moment she let out a small sigh. I think I was an improvement on the doll! I sure was. Her mouth encircled the teat as her finger caressed my pussy. My clit was wetting her finger, and she had only one response, as she commenced sucking the bottle I held with a huge slurp, she pushed her finger inside me. If she was happy, so was I! She pushed harder and more fiercely until I felt myself cum all over her fingers, my wetness mingling with the wet milk on the bed.
  That seemed to excite her too, for she grabbed the bottle, continuing to suck its contents, as she withdrew her hand and pushed my legs as far wide apart as I had ever known them, stretching my legs painfully and opening my passage into which she suddenly pushed the teat. I felt it dripping into me, as she leapt up. My legs narrowed as she did so, squeezing the teat to produce a stronger drip of milk, but not for long, she wedged one leg over the edge of the bed, and then the other over the other side. This was a new and animated Kath indeed.  It seemed the outpouring of the sexual fervor she had already displayed. Though it was painful to me, I tell you, I wanted it real bad too. I wanted to see what on earth she had dreamed up.
  The teat was pulled out. She sucked it anew. I could almost imagine its taste, the milk sucked through the cum coated teat. As she crouched over me, she pulled my hands to her tiny nipples surrounded by almost invisible bosoms, making me fondle them. The nipples were floppy, but became rigid under my manipulation.
  I could hear her groaning softly as her body shook with the pleasure of my touch. Then she let out a scream. It made me jolt. But I continued my pleasant task. The scream was followed by a sigh as out her body poured her cum, it sprayed warm on my open passage, trickling down my crotch. She fell on me, the cum lubricating her movement on top of my body.
  She screamed again, this time pressing her pussy to mine, and I felt a huge spurt of her cum push into my passage. It poured in as though she were a man. I had never felt such a powerful force, could never have done that myself. She leapt up, pushed my legs back together and then her body under mine and lay under me. She splayed her own legs astride the bed, then turned me over and kissed my astonished face. She knew her cum would be dripping out me, but she had positioned herself so well, it fell straight into her waiting pussy. She sighed as she felt her cum return to its home. I sighed too.
  As she lay there, she took my finger and led it to the cummy passage. It was my turn to give her the excitement that she had given me at the beginning!
   It was easy slipping my finger in thru the cum but she held my hand and made it jerk and turn and thrust and withdraw as though it was a matter of doing it as fast as possible. She groaned and withdrew her hand, trusting I would continue.
  We didn't need to wait long. My finger felt her orgasm spray another remarkable spurt of cum that forced my finger to withdraw. She sat up, pushed me down and commenced to lick my fanny with renewed intensity.  She lay with her own pussy pressed in my mouth dripping the sweet spent cum into me. We lay aside each other masturbating simultaneously. We collapsed in the cummy milky bed.
   Surely Kath could not regress again now.
      I'm looking forward to relating to you my final chapters, in which I will tell you about our objective research into the issue-
 just how far is sexual activity appropriate for the true sissy? Yes, this is an objective study, but also practical...
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gread stowy 
 Princess are kind, brave, beautiful and determined they can do or be anything 
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