A Comedy of AR's

Chapter 81
Freaky Friday (27) – A Chaste Punishment

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Let’s get back to the boy now.  Did you enjoy fucking the girl?”

We were both pretty shocked that Dr. Frumpy would use this kind of language in a counseling session.

“Pardon?” said Sam.

“I asked you if you enjoyed fucking the girl’s cunt.  Did you?”

“I guess I did, a little.”

“Well, then say so, only I want you to use my words.”

Sam shook his head in frustration but said it.  “I enjoyed fucking the girl’s cunt.”

“Now the girl.  Did you enjoy sucking the boy’s cock?”

My mouth was open.  “But I –”

“No, no, just say the words.”

Frumpy had us brainwashed.  Half crying, half talking, I answered, “I enjoyed sucking the boy’s cock.”

“Now the boy.  Did you enjoy licking her titties?”

“I enjoyed licking her titties.”

(Those were things we didn’t even do yesterday.)

“Okay, now both of you.  I want you to lie down on your side and I want the girl to lick the boy’s cock and I want the boy to lick the girl’s cunt.  You may begin.”

I was in some sort of daze.  I remembered that Dr. Frumpy was an expert in hypnosis and I could not allow myself to fall under her spells again.  I had the courage to say, “That isn’t right.”

I was so glad that Sam followed my lead, even though he was looking a bit spacey himself.  “I can’t do that,” he said in a slurred voice.

Dr. Frumpy snapped her fingers loudly several times.  “Wake up! Wake up, nap time is over … So you two think you know the difference between right and wrong?”

We answered in unison, “Yes, Ma’am.”

“That’s good to hear,” Dr. Frumpy noted.

Seeing her satisfied with anything got me worried, especially when she got up to open a filing cabinet drawer behind her desk.  Is this the point in the session where she paddles us?  I’m not sure what she took out of the drawer.  But she walked around her desk so she could face us close up.

“I have a gift for each of you,” she said.  “These are chastity belts, one for a male and one for a female.  Why don’t you try them on, so you can get a good fit.

The one she handed to Sam looked very similar to the one that Yolanda made Daniel wear.  It was basically a waistband with a connecting metal pouch.

“I’ll need to help the boy,” Dr. Frumpy volunteered.  “First let’s get you a nice snug fit on the waistband.  You’ll want it fairly tight so it doesn’t wiggle around your testicles when you walk.  Okay, you’re doing good.  Now you’re going to need to insert your penis downward into the curved metal tube.”

Sam looked puzzled.  “But I have an erection,” he protested.

Dr. Frumpy nodded.  “Yes, of course.  Now, I have very cold hands, so I’m going to hold your penis for a minute and I’m sure your engorgement will diminish.”

She actually grabbed him … and Sam’s life officially hit a new low.  But aren’t we saying that pretty much every day lately?  Yes, his eyes were bulging and so were mine, but we were absolutely at her mercy.  I hope she doesn’t fondle my pussy.  If she doesn’t paddle us, we should consider it a win.

“There, that’s better.  You’re flaccid now.  Go ahead and stick your penis downward into the curved tube.  Okay, and we’ll push the metal pouch over the tube and press it against your pubis.  Your testicles will nestle just outside the metal pouch.  They’ll be fine as long as you don’t get hit in the groin area.

“This is scary,” Sam whimpered.

“Oh, nonsense, boy.  Now lets pull the attachment cord between your legs and up into your butt crack.  The circular poop ring should snuggle right up into your anus, so for awhile, your poops will be cylindrical, like extruding Italian sausage.”

“But how do I pee?” the boy worried.

“Well, like a girl, of course.  You’ll have to sit down to pee, since your penis will always be pointing down.  And you should try to avoid erections.  In this position, they could become very painful.  Let’s try to tighten up the front and back latches now.”

“Ow! … Ow!” the boy squealed.  “I think that’s too tight.

“Nonsense.  The locks are secure.  It’s supposed to be a snug fit.  And what about the girl?  Did you figure it out yet?  It’s easier than a boy’s belt.”

I frowned.  “I think so, but does the metal circle have to go up into my butt hole?”

“Certainly.  That’s the only way you’ll be able to poop with a belt on.  Is your waist belt snug?”

“Yes.”

“No, I’ll have to make it tighter.”

“Ohhh!  Ow!”

“That’s better.  Now bring the center piece, the metal strap and the cord, down from your belly button, over your vagina, and back up your butt crack.  I’ll fasten the back for you.  Just make sure that the metal strap with the tiny holes is firmly pressed against your vagina so you can pee.”

“I can’t do it now,” I fretted.

“Why not?”

“I have a tampon inside me.”

Dr. Frumpy looked at my vagina and saw the string.  “Oh, we can fix that,” she noted.

The she picked up her wastebasket and placed it between my legs, lifted the center strap … and without warning, she pulled the string hard.

“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!”  That was really rough.  My poor pussy burned for a second.  Couldn’t I sue her for that since she’s not a real doctor?  She’s no better than those three interns at the hospital … those stooges.

“Okay, now … Fix up your center strap.”

“It’s hard to do.” I whimpered.

“Come on, dear.  You’re loose like the boy.  It’s not tight enough.”

“Ow! … Ow!”

“There you go.  We’ll just fasten the locks now, and you’ll be all set to be a chaste woman.”

“But what about my period?” I whined.

“What about it?” she retorted.  “Just use pads instead of tampons.  You’re not a baby.”

We couldn’t help it.  We were both crying.  Dr. Frumpy handed us tissues and then pressed the intercom button on her desk.

“Send in the father, please.”

I was glad to hear that.  Maybe Paul could rescue us from this witchcraft.

The man entered the office, shut the door behind him, and took in the bizarre scene before him … two crying children, nude from the waist down, wearing chastity belts.

He tried not to yell, but calmly asked, “What the hell is going on here?”

Frumpy went on the attack.  “Mr. Adams, these two children will remain forcibly chaste for exactly one week.  That is the maximum permitted by New York State law.  But if it were up to me, I wouldn’t remove these devices until they each turned eighteen.”

“Is this really legal?” he asked.

“Oh yes, and both belts are wired up electronically.”

“Will they electrocute us?!” I asked with alarm.

“No, but each lock has a tiny chronograph that will track the date and time of any breach in the belt … in case someone gets a fancy idea of trying to remove it.  If there’s one breach, then all three of you fail the assignment.”

Paul had angst.  “Do the kids really have to wear these all week?”

“Oh yes, but unfortunately, it’s the best I can offer to these two hellions, who are obviously in need of some strict parental discipline … something that you, sir, are woefully lacking.”

“Now you listen here, Dr. Frumpy - - -“

“No, Mr. Adams … YOU listen.  You and these demon spawn will either follow my orders to the letter or juvenile detention will be the next station stop for this train wreck of a family.”

The doctor continued.  “Were you aware, Mr. Adams, that your two little darlings were spending vast amounts of free time watching porn on the internet?”

“I don’t believe that.”

“They confessed, Mr. Adams!  How else do you think they came up with their grotesque ideas for violent sex and cucumbers?  So one of your homework assignments will be to confiscate their two laptops and two cell phones and take them to an authorized service department and have parental controls installed on all four units.  Then you will return them and the children to my office next Tuesday at 10am and prove that all pornography requests are blocked.”

Paul gave in.  “I understand.  Can the kids get dressed now?”

“No, their shame will be on display the entire session.”

Dr. Frumpy opened a drawer in her desk and took out three clipboards, each with sheet of notebook paper and a pen.  She handed one to each of us.  (Not again!  Another writing punishment?)

“For the two children, I want you to write a title at the top of your page.  Write down ‘The Dangers of Pre-teen Sexual Promiscuity.’   Go on.  Do it now.”

Sam and I followed the instruction.

“I want you to take it home and fill up the page, single spaced in small handwriting.  I want to hear your own ideas.  If there is any wholesale copying from each other or from the internet you will fail the assignment.  If I hear any complaints, then I’ll change it to a ten page essay.”

I asked (stupidly), “How can we do our research if our computers are taken?”

The doctor asked Paul, “Mr. Adams, do you know of any place in the Buffalo area where people can do research for a project?”

“Uh, the library?”

“Did you children hear your father?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” we both said.

“And Mr. Adams, I would like you to title your essay, ‘The Dangers of Neglectful Parenting.’  And please follow the same rules that I gave the children.”

She concluded, “If you have no other questions, then you may leave, but do not pull up your pants until you are out of my office.”

No one felt like arguing with the doctor any longer.  We held our clipboards, cried a little, and waddled toward the exit with little tiny baby steps.  What a pathetic sight that must have been.  And the metal circle in my butt hole was very uncomfortable.