Sissy

This was all part of football and if any man was such a sissy he could not stand it, then he had better seek the sidelines.

I realised I still held my normal male clothes and dropped them to the floor under the desk, out of the way. […] Would it hurt? Yes, I knew it would from watching videos of sissies being spanked by their dominant mistresses.

"I so glad - so glad the wicked thing not hurt my sissy!" and in that moment of thankful joy the two children embraced each other with fond affection.

Her seven-year-old brother Justin sat on my lap beside her casket. I explained to him why we were staying with his sissy. He wouldn't leave; he stayed, too. He kissed her, touched her hand, told her he would miss her.

Frontiersmen were never afraid of poetry. It was Big Business with its fear of femininity, it was the eunuchoid clergy capitulating to vulgar masculinity that made religion and art sissy things.

[…] she’d decided the wrapping paper was too feminine. It had a viney pattern that wasn’t anything sissier than you’d see in the old Arabian Nights illustrations. But Richard might think they were flowers.

She has to make. She has to make sissy.

Joan recognized her as the girl whose son had sissied on her pants. She was still dabbing at her pantleg with a damp paper towel.

‘Sissy is not a name,’ said Mr. Gradgrind. ‘Don’t call yourself Sissy. Call yourself Cecilia.’ ‘It’s father as calls me Sissy, sir,’ returned the young girl in a trembling voice, and with another curtsey.

“He'd give the store away if Sissy and I let him,” said Dreama.