The Longhart's best Christmas

Chapter 3
Busted!

Chapter Description: Mary is busted by her angry family... how can she explain what happened to them...?!

Mary managed to catch a glimpse of her memory, and remembered loosely the house configuration: if she continues straight, there are the stairs, and then the loft, full of disordered stuff. Maybe she (he) can hide there.

The naked boy was almost passing on front from the stairs, when a pair of legs blocked his way: It was the big figure of Herbert, wearing a gown, holding a baseball bat on his hands. As Herbert bowed his head, he surprised, surprised a lot. There was a 7-years old naked boy running over the rug of the corridor, then stopping on front of him and standing there, staring at him totally paralyzed.

Herbert felt practically unarmed, as the baseball bat slipped from his hand and fell down to the floor: he had wished a son all his life, and there was a perfect one, just like newly born (and with a strange similarity with her wife). The man stared at the boy’s eyes, and the boy looked the man, when a few words from Allison destroyed the fantasy:

"Dad! He is the thief kid! He ripped off and stole the Christmas presents!"

Herbert reacted, realizing the boy was wearing the deluxe kid cowboy boots that the marriage bought when Mary was pregnant. Herbert lost his temper: the boy was a rascal; he was stomping his dreams and his wife’s. Herbert didn’t loose his opportunity: everyday he revised in his mind how to be a good father, how to react under any situation. And he had the opportunity to demonstrate it: He knew the boy was needing discipline.

Herbert showed his grievous face as he put his hands around the boy’s hip, while the rascal stood looking him, like hypnotized. Allison came just in time to see his father sitting on a step, while he was lifting the boy in the air and then putting him horizontally over the knee.

At Mary’s mind was flashing a lot of strange ideas: Mary felt really like a boy, like a son. Mary always imagined how would have been being the mother of a son, but strangely she couldn’t remember imagining her like the mother. Her attention was always on the boy: she loved the idea of having a boy, and share all his dreams and adventures in his life; the mischief, the jokes and all the emotions and feelings that only a male kid can experience. But, right now, she was experiencing being a boy, and having a father. Mary couldn’t react; she was only focused in all those sensations: childhood sensations, “boyhood sensations”.

Herbert started rubbing the boy’s buttocks, preparing the field to impose the discipline. Mary blushed. It was kind of different: a weird, crazy excitation, that was nearly compelling him (Mary was in fact starting to identify herself now as a “himself”) to do everything she wanted. But Mary was only focusing in that sensation. Those Herbert’s words created a lot of echoes in Mary’s mind. However the exciting wasn’t the one Mary felt when being a woman.

"Do you think it is a game? Are you that naughty?"

The grievous voice of the man calmed down Mary; strangely, that deep voice that before the transformation she founded so exciting, now made him nervous and afraid.

Herbert couldn’t stand looking the lovely boots still covering the feet of the rascal, so he hold the boy’s low back with a hand, and with the other hand he pulled down the boots, leaving the boy in barefoot. Mary didn’t like that sensation of nakedness (a pair of boots didn’t offer too much security, but at least...) Mary shook his body and struggled, trying to escape from the iron embrace, but Herbert’s arms were holding the boy so tight.

"Get serious, boy! You must get responsible for your actions", said firmly Herbert.

"Yes, dad! Give him a good punishment", said Allison, that was standing with crossed arms, contemplating the scene interested.

Mary tried to explain what happened, but she only could stammer.

Allison hurried her father to start the punishment. Herbert raised his strong hand and discharged a sound spanking in the boy’s naked butt. Mary didn’t know how to react. The hit was truly strong, but his buttocks felt spongy like a pillow. But a second after, Mary felt his butt hurting for great smack. Mary stood early breathless and shook his legs, trying to endure the pain; she could see her daughter smile, enjoying the justice application.

"Why did you sneak into my house?!", asked Herbert, loudly.

Mary couldn’t answer, so Herbert gave him another spank. This time her butt couldn’t endure a second and the pain was growing on Mary. But she strangely started to have the things in her mind clearer: that was a situation she had never been before, being a girl in her childhood, not costumed to that rough handle and punishment.

Herbert continued: "Were you going to steal my son’s presents?!", spanking Mary again

Mary tried to explain again, but she couldn’t say anything, only moaning by the pain.

"Bad boy!", said Allison, joining to the spanking by slapping the boy in both buttocks.

The punishment was perfect: Mary felt like a little boy being spanked by his parents...

No! Now SHE WAS A LITTLE BOY BEING SPANKED BY HIS PARENTS.

"Were you going to steal my son’s presents?!", Herbert repeated, spanking Mary again.

Mary knew she couldn’t explain. She needed to express the truth. Bawling with childish emotion.

" NO! I AM your son", shouted Mary.

Herbert listened surprised those strange words, that slowly started to build a little dream on his head. Allison had a chill, and said to his father: "He is not your son. He is only cheating you! He cheat us both two!"

Herbert awoke from that dream, with a start of tears in his eyes, and he was almost throwing a new spank, when a strange sound alerted all the family. It was like an echo that was coming from the hall. Then the sound was a splash and the light that was coming from the chimney extinguished.

"Dad, I think another burglar is coming inside", Said Allison, frightened.

But another sound came clearer and unmistakable:

“HO, HO, HO”, sounded in the air. With a new hope in his heart, Herbert ran across the corridor, holding the boy by the wrist. Allison couldn’t think another thing that following them.

TO BE CONTINUED