Be Careful What You Ask For 10

By David

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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I was admittedly a strange child, obsessed with odd little fantasies but too shy to tell anyone. As I entered adolescence I embarked on a series of secret adventures to satisfy my insatiable curiosity. Only when I got caught did I realize just how careful you have to be about what you ask for … it just might come true!

Part Ten – I Am Punished For My Sins

At long last the vases were filled with flowers from my mother’s garden – each with a colorful mix of roses, lilies and daffodils, if it matters – and I was finally allowed to sit down at the picnic table to eat my pancakes in relative peace. By that time, unfortunately, I wasn’t very hungry. All of the anxiety and embarrassment of the morning had ruined my appetite. I did manage to consume a few bites, which was weird as I really loved pancakes and I was usually crazy about strawberries and whipped cream. After all I’d been through I was just too nervous to enjoy them, I guess.

Being naked in front of my mom and our guests was bad enough, but that wasn’t the worst of it. I sat helpless as the adults went into chatterbox mode and I endured the most humiliating stories about my childhood. While I picked at my food my mom and Aunt Margaret told Mrs. Taylor all about how I used to go without clothes when I was little and how they would take me to the beach and go looking for tadpoles in the creek on our grandmother’s farm and play hide and seek with my girl cousins. Everyone laughed and laughed at my expense, especially Mrs. Taylor; occasionally she would shoot a glance at me that seemed to say, “Aha! Now it all makes perfect sense!” I did my best to keep my head down, playing with my pancakes and wishing I was a million miles away.

The only good news was that my penis had gone into frightened mode and retreated in between my chubby thighs. I remember looking down at the little pink tip peering out from the plump, smooth flesh below my belly and thinking, “Well, at least they can’t see that!” Now all I had to worry about was people looking at my bare butt and boy boobs. I sighed. It could have been worse, I suppose. Little did I know that was the exact destination where my morning was headed!

“David stopped going naked around us about the time he was in, what, first or second grade?” Mom lamented. “I suppose he thought he was getting too old to have any more fun. It was really too bad. I know Margaret and the girls really missed playing with my naked little monkey.”

“Yep, that was a sad time. We could have had a lot of fun, but Mr. Party Pooper here had to ruin things.” Aunt Margaret reached over and pinched my cheek, then brushed my long blond hair back so she could see my eyes. “Not to worry. It looks like happy days are here again!”

“That isn’t very funny,” I groaned. “Not to me, it isn’t. I hate going without clothes!”

My mother was quick to challenge this last statement. “Oh David, you are a little liar! I don’t believe that for one minute. Not after that stunt you pulled last night. Slipping out of the house naked and doing who knows what! And what about all those times before? When you thought you were getting away with something? What about that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumbled. “I didn’t do anything … I promise!”

“You little liar! Don’t you dare contradict me!” Mom raised an eyebrow and bared her teeth in a gloating smile. “I know all about what you’ve been doing … all about your little naked games when you thought your daddy and I weren’t looking. What do you think we are, dumb or something?”

“Nooooooo …,” I sniffed. I could feel my nose tingle, just like when you’re about to cry. “That’s not what I meant.”

“If you cannot tell the truth, then maybe you should just keep your mouth shut,” my mother snapped.

To my surprise Mom went on a long tirade about what a sneaky, naughty son she had. I listened in horror as she proceeded to describe in great detail all the times she caught me in my bedroom or in the bathroom, completely naked and oftentimes staring at my reflection in the mirror. Aunt Margaret and Mrs. Taylor weren’t the only ones surprised to hear this; much of it was news to me, too! I mean, I knew she’d caught me on a couple of occasions; apparently she saw me in my birthday suit a lot more often than I ever suspected. I did not know that, I swear to God! I was speechless with surprise; meanwhile, her accounts of my clandestine naked adventures created even more laughter and I was targeted by an onslaught of teasing and finger pointing.

"David Allen Cartwright, you little hypocrite!" fussed my Aunt Margaret. "And all this time you were pretending to be all shy and bashful when we could have had so much fun together. I, for one, am sorely disappointed."

“Mooooom!” I cried. “Please … don’t ….”

My mother brushed off my complaint and laughed. “Oh shush, you! You had your chance to be up front with me about all this. You had your fun when you thought I wasn’t looking, now it’s my turn to have a little fun at your expense!”

I looked from my mom to my aunt and back to my mom. I could not believe the words that were coming out of their mouths. Leave it to my employer to divert the conversation toward even more dangerous waters.

“Mmmm, that must have been fun for you, Mary,” cooed Mrs. Taylor. She shot me a gleeful smile and then turned toward my mother. “I would just love finding a little nude boy in my house! What a delight that must have been for you!”

“Oh, it was a delight all right,” my mom said with a snarky tone in her voice. “I suppose I should have known better. This wasn’t first time I’d caught him, you know.”

Mrs. Taylor cast a sidelong glance in my direction. “Oh really? You’ve seen David sneaking around naked before? In the past, I mean?”

Mom sighed. “Oh sure. Lot of times. There were several instances when I’d leave him alone in the house and then catch him playing his naked games. I knew something was going on, but I wasn’t quite sure what. So one day I pretended to go shopping and I drove around for a few minutes. Then I parked my car on the street and snuck up on the porch and peeked through the windows. And guess what I saw?”

I couldn’t believe my ears! I remember thinking, “Please Mom, shut up! Please, don’t say anything else … isn’t this bad enough already? Please … just stop talking!” but I was so stunned I couldn’t get the words out.

“David was supposed to be doing his homework, but imagine my surprise when I discovered him running around the house acting like a naked little monkey in his birthday suit. He tiptoed around the room like he was being oh so careful and sneaky. Of course he had no idea he was being watched! He was so funny, dancing about and rolling around on the floor and doing all sorts of silly things. I suppose I should have been upset when I saw what was going on, but he was so hilarious and so cute, I couldn’t get mad at him. It was all I could do to keep from laughing loud enough for him to catch me watching him!”

I could not believe my ears! Mom knew … about my secret naked games? Oh. My. God. If she knew about that … what else did she know …?

Mrs. Taylor shot me a mischievous wink. I had visions of my mother seeing the video of me naked at her friend’s house and my stomach ached like I had to go to the bathroom … really bad. Gah! I was so screwed, I actually began thinking about what my funeral was going to be like.

My mother seemed rather proud of exposing my most shameful secrets and she yammered on and on and on about it, talking as if she’d never talked before. As you can imagine, the things she said were as shocking as they were incriminating; the more she talked the more excited her audience grew, and in turn, the more attention I garnered. Surrounded by these three adult women, I felt like I was being judged and punished with every word that came out of her mouth. And all I could do was sit there in my bare skin and take it.

“Well, I am so jealous, I cannot stand it!” exclaimed my Aunt Margaret after hearing my mom’s descriptions of my crimes. She laughed out loud in vulgar, not so lady way and she shot me a mocking wink. “Coming home and seeing such a pretty little boy prancing around in his birthday suit would be a lot of fun in our house. I know the girls would have given anything to catch David dancing and playing in the nude.”

Mom giggled. “I know, right? Of course, I never let him know I’d caught him. He was having way too much fun, for one thing. I wanted to confront him, of course, but the timing had to be right. I figured if I gave him enough rope he’d hang himself one day and I’d have to confront him over it. And sure enough, last night I came home night and ….”

“Mom! Please! No more!”

I covered my mouth as soon as I said the words. I couldn’t help myself, but the compulsion overwhelmed me.

“Did I not tell you to shut it?” My mother stared at me with raised eyebrows. “You had your fun, now let me have mine!”

“Sorry,” I weakly whispered. “I … I’m … sorry ….”

I tried to make myself as small as possible, which wasn’t easy as I already felt pretty small since the morning began. Squirming in my nakedness, I felt three sets of glowing eyes staring right at me. It was a pretty awful feeling, let me tell you.

Leave it to Mrs. Taylor to add to my embarrassment. “Mary, tell me, what was the funniest thing you saw David do?” she asked in a lilting, musical voice. “I imagine there were many instances, and I’m sure they were all delightful, but what was your most favorite?”

I looked at my mother and mouthed the words “please … no ….” But my plea was ignored, of course.

“Well, for me the funniest thing that happened was watching David look at himself in the mirror.” Mom shot me a bright smile as though she was daring me to interrupt her again. “He would do all sorts of silly things like dancing around the living room and jumping up and down and waving his arms and legs about. Then he’d go into these ridiculous poses, like he was in front of a camera or posing for a magazine cover.”

“Really?” Mrs. Taylor gave me a sly smile. “Like he was posing for a camera, hmmm? That sounds rather naughty … and more than a little curious.”

My mother laughed. “Oh, David did all sorts of naughty and curious things when he was naked. Sometimes he would just stand there and stare at himself. The strangest was when he would turn around and look at his bare bottom or diddle with his penis and balls! At one point he spread his little cheeks and inspected his little hole. I have to admit that was probably the funniest thing I ever saw him do. I thought I was going to lose it and give myself away when I saw him doing that, but I managed to keep from laughing too loud.”

“He did what?” Aunt Margaret squealed with delight. She looked over at me with a huge, glowing grin. “What were you doing, sweetie? Looking for gold?”

All three women laughed. My mom laughed the loudest.

“If you think you’re surprised, you should have been in my shoes,” she said. “I swear, I never saw a child so obsessed with how he looks naked! Can you imagine? If he’d been any older with hair down there I would have thought, ‘Ew, how disgusting!’ But he’s got that cute little baby butt and his penis and balls are so smooth and cute and all, I thought it was kind of adorable at the time.”

"Oh, that sounds adorable, all right," my Aunt Margaret said with a titter. She looked right at me and grinned. "I can't wait for the next time you come over to my house. I've got a huge mirror you can spend all day posing in front of! And two girls, too!"

I had a sudden premonition of being naked and trapped at the hands of my aunt and cousins; based on my childhood memories, it didn’t take much for me to imagine getting teased and tickled and who knows what else. It’s just that I was so much older now … and as much as I once thought something like that might have been fun, I now knew that it would be hell on earth, especially with my crazy aunt running the show!

Unfortunately for me, I had more immediate problems to worry about. I was beside myself with shame as my mother continued to describe my antics to her eager audience; if I could have dug a hole and buried myself in the ground I would have done so in a minute. But I was trapped between my mother’s friend on one side and my mom and my aunt on the other. All three women were having the best time at my expense, leering at me and laughing at me as loud and as hard as they could. Their merriment seemed over the top to me and I began to worry about what the neighbors might think if they heard what was going on.

“Oh, Mary, that sounds so delightful!” Mrs. Taylor cooed as she regained her composure. “It sounds like you really had the surprise of your life! I only wish I could have been there with you to see it!”

My mother glanced at me and nodded. “Well, the day is still young. Who knows what kind of trouble our pretty little fairy might get into?”

Great. Now my mother was calling me a “fairy.” Oh, how I hated being called that! Darn Mrs. Taylor for bringing that up again! I almost preferred being called a “naked little monkey.”

The truth was, of course, I was completely aghast to hear my mother’s revelations. Oh sure, they were accurate and all – I even admitted to that much … eventually – but that wasn’t the point. My little secret was, well, supposed to be a secret. Who knew that moms could be sneaky enough to spy on their own kids?

“Mom! Please … don’t … say … anything more ….” I quietly begged. “Pleeeeassssse?”

Mom took a sip of her drink and shrugged. “Why not? The cat’s out of the bag now, thanks to your little stunt last night. Besides, it’s not like you have any more secrets, not sitting there in your bare skin. You’ve got nowhere to hide them now, do you?”

It was weird hearing my mom talking like this. She was normally just, well, a normal mom, you know, checking on your homework and fixing your breakfast and all that stuff. But this was all new to me, hearing her talk about my dirty little secrets and sharing them with my aunt and her friend.

“You’re lucky your father doesn’t know about any of this,” my mother added. “I don’t know that he would be so understanding.”

I felt my face burn red hot. My dad? Oh crap! I closed my eyes and wondered how much my father knew about any of this. Mom was right; he would not have liked coming home and catching me running around the house without any clothes. Worse yet, I couldn't imagine how he'd react if he saw me now, looking like such a sissy with flowers in my hair and running around in my birthday suit. No amount of fast talking or lying could explain that!

“You’re going to have to be more honest with me, David.” Mom reached over and patted me on the cheek, causing me to cringe in shame. “Do that and we’ll have a lot more fun. I promise.”

“Mooooom ….” I weakly pleaded. “Please …. stop talking ... no more … pleeeeeeeeasssssse ….”

“Oh, stop whining!” My mother laughed. “I don’t know why we shouldn't talk about this. Every bit of it is the truth and you know it! If you didn’t want me talking about it, then maybe you shouldn’t have done it.”

Energized by my protests, my mother went on to reveal to our guests something else I never suspected: she knew all about my collection of girly magazines! This took my embarrassment to a whole new level! I listened in disbelief as she described my secret library in the most colorful language, leaving very little to the imagination; she told our guests all about the lurid covers with the tied up women in various states of undress and the scenes of violence and bondage. It was more than I wanted to hear and more than I wanted anyone else to hear! She even knew about the old timey nudist magazines I’d “borrowed” and she had no problem telling Aunt Margret and Mrs. Taylor all about them, too!

If I felt sick before, I was literally nauseous then.

“What is it with men … and boys,” – my mother said, looking directly at me – “that they have to look at pictures of bare butts and titties all the time? Men, well, I can sort of understand it … but those magazines are completely inappropriate for young boys! Especially the artificial floozies that pose for those nasty things! Where are the real women in those publications? Aren’t they good enough? What’s wrong with the real thing?”

Mrs. Taylor, of course, had to elevate the conversation to a whole new – and embarrassing! – level. “Hmmm …. Tell me, do you still have these magazines? They sound very … interesting. I’d love to see them!”

“Oh, sure, that’s not a problem at all.” My mother looked at me. “David, sweetie, do you want to go fetch them … or should I?”

“Moooom … please ….” I quietly begged. The last thing I wanted was to go deliver the instruments of my own doom.

“Oh please, don’t be such a whiner!” she snapped in a dismissive voice. “This is your own doing, so you do not get to complain. You are a little boy who has no business looking at or even knowing about such things, so you keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told or there will be hell to pay!”

I started to bury my face in my hands, but Mom ordered me to sit up straight and listen to what she and our guests had to say.

“Do not hide your face from us, young man! Sit up and pay attention!” she insisted. “It’s time you get a real woman’s point of view about life. Your father certainly isn’t any help and I’m not about to count on any other man to set you straight! So pay close attention … or else!”

With that she excused herself and went into the house, leaving me alone with Aunt Margaret and Mrs. Taylor, neither of whom spoke a single word in my mother’s absence. I tried to come up with something to say, but my throat and eyes burned and I was afraid I’d get choked if I tried to speak. The ensuing silence was awkward, to say the least.

While my mom was gone I managed to get a glimpse of my stupid penis – don’t ask me why or how. All I knew was it was still in its frightened mode; the tiny pink tip was all that could be seen, peeking out from its hiding place in between my smooth pubic area and my pudgy, baby fat thighs.

I remember looking up to see Mrs. Taylor watching me; I squirmed uncomfortably, knowing that she’d caught me looking down at my penis. As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, in a gesture of cruelty my employer dropped her own eyes down and studied my bashful organ for a long, uncomfortable period of time; I so wanted to cover my nudity, but I was afraid that either she or my aunt would accuse me of playing with myself, so I grudgingly left my pitiful organ exposed to view.

While I sat there and endured Mrs. Taylor’s unwavering stare, something weird began to happen. I don’t know if it was her looking at me or the excitement of the moment or a simple automatic reaction, but my darned penis began growing right there before me, rising to a full erection and sticking up in the air before my very eyes! A thrilling tingling sensation swept over my naked body and I got scared that I might make a mess right there in front of my arch enemy and my aunt!

Mrs. Taylor finally raised her eyes up and looked at me; her face was alight with mischief. A broad, wolfish smile spread across her crimson lips and I was unnerved to see her tongue lick hungrily across her bright white teeth, which added to the predatory expression on her perfect movie star face. I was suddenly ashamed of how my body reacted in front of this awful woman and I wanted to crawl under the table and hide; instead, I started to silently cry. Without so much as a word my hated employer had rendered me to tears, just like that … and judging from the smug look on her face, she was loving it!

The next thing I remember is my mom slamming a stack of magazines on the picnic table. I was so wrapped up on my shame I didn’t hear her approach and I almost had a heart attack when the pile of publications hit the table with a loud WHACK!

“Here you go, little mister!” she spat with a mix of amusement and frustration. “You seemed like you didn’t care for our conversation, I thought maybe you could use a little reading material.”

I looked at my mom, then back down at the magazines laid out before me. To my horror, they were the very same ones that I kept hidden – or so I thought! – in my closet. I felt dizzy with fear. I mean, I never dreamed in a million years that my mom would ever find them, much less confront me with them in front of other people … or while I was stark naked!

As bad as I thought the day had gone, it had just gotten about a million times worse!

I looked from the stack of dirty magazines to my mom and then over at my aunt and my employer. All eyes were locked in on me, waiting to see what I had to say.

“I … um … I ….” I tried to think of something to say, but that was about it.

I gave a sigh and turned my attention back to the books on the table. I didn’t have to count them to know that they were all there, the men’s pulp magazines with the Nazi soldiers and their women victims, some in ripped clothing, some without any clothes at all; there were the Arab slave traders and their voluptuous, unclothed Victorian women on display in the marketplaces; and there were the ferocious tribesmen with their naked female prisoners, bound and beaten with whips and hanging over blazing campfires and boiling pots.

My heart sank even further when I realized that my mom had also found the vintage nudist magazines I’d pilfered. I felt my stomach drop as she picked one up and quickly flipped to the most often viewed photographs – I had a bad habit of turning over the corners of the pages to earmark my favorite pictures, which now came back to haunt me. These particular pages showed children my age playing and cavorting about in their birthday suits.

“Oh my god! Look how young some of these children are!” Aunt Margaret held up one of the magazines and waved it at my mother and her friend. “They can’t be out of grade school! Some of them don’t have a bit of hair between their legs! Even the boys … they’re just as smooth and bald as our pretty little fairy here!”

“Yes, but you have to admit, David has much prettier hair than any of the girls,” Mrs. Taylor happily commented. “On top of his head, I mean. Down below, he’s as bare as those little angels.”

There was another wave of feminine merriment in the air. My aunt let loose with a loud laugh that would have done a sailor proud.

“That’s right! Poor little David … down there, he’s got no hair!” she announced. “He’s so smooth and pretty, just like a little baby!”

I remember looking down at the bare skin between my legs and feeling my cheeks burn with shame. Oh, how I hated being talked about like I wasn’t even there! What was I, some sort of pet or dolly for these crazy women to play with?

That wasn’t the end of the discussion regarding the nudist magazines. You may recall there were also several photos of a young boy about my own age that I often identified with; I’d often fantasized that he was actually me in those photographs, running about naked without a care in the world and playing games and posing awkwardly with my naked sisters or cousins or girlfriends or whoever those cute girls were. Now, it seemed, my sins had caught up with me. My mother held up a photospread featuring my alter ego. She raised an eyebrow and looked me dead in the eye.

“I noticed you’ve spent a lot of time looking at this section,” she said with more than a bit of sarcasm in her voice. “Is this what you want, to go about in your bare skin like this pretty boy, playing with a bunch of other naked children, running around like little fairies in the forest? Is it? Hmm? Hmmm?”

I tried to think of something to say, but all I could come up with was, “N-n-n- … n-nooooooooo ….”

“No? Mmmmm, I don’t think so. I think you want this. I think you want it so bad you can taste it? Am I right? Hmm? Am I?”

I shrugged my naked shoulders and shook my head. “I … I … I d-d-dunno ….” I croaked hoarsely. “Honest … m-m-mom … I d-don’t ….”

My mother nodded. “You don’t know, eh? Well, isn’t that interesting ….”

I was so ashamed of myself, I thought I was going to die. I mean, I’d always known those stupid magazines would get me in trouble if my mom ever found them, but I never really thought I was too smart for her. I knew she wasn’t stupid; I just never figured she’d be sneaky or nosy enough to go through my stuff. Then again, I didn’t know she knew I’d been playing my little naked game behind her back; if I had, I think I would have stopped doing stuff like that and gotten rid of my secret treasures. Maybe. Then again, being a dumb little kid who thrived on edge of getting caught, I probably would have kept on my path of self-destruction. Who knows?

“I bet you didn’t know I knew you had these, did you?” Mom’s eyes were bright and gleeful, like a little girl who’d found all of her Easter eggs. “Your mother is a pretty smart cookie. I know a lot more than I let on. You just remember that.”

I tried to swallow and say something in return; my mouth and throat were both dry, leaving me unable to do either.

Sitting there naked and helpless, I watched as my mom passed my collection of dirty magazines to my Aunt Margaret and Mrs. Taylor. The expressions on their faces ranged from amusement to incredulity to disgust and back again to amusement. There was a lot of whispering and giggling between the three women and the occasional burst of laughter. Every now and then either my mom or my aunt or my employer would look over at me and either roll their eyes or wink at me or just cluck their tongues in disappointment. Sometimes it was all three at the same time, which was particularly painful; I remember wishing I could run away and hide … but I was so scared it was all I could do to keep from breaking out in tears and sobbing like a little baby!

“I hate that Clifford keeps these awful books in your house,” Aunt Margaret lamented at one point. She held up a magazine cover that depicted a young girl gagged and bound and dangling over a pot of boiling water; dancing around the campfire was a tribe of fierce African warriors armed with menacing looking spears and a shared grotesque hunger in their eyes. “You’re certainly right, sis. Our sweet little David is much too young to be exposed to this kind of filth. I mean, just look at this! What kind of pervert comes up with this kind of stuff? An eleven year old boy should not be looking at such things. It will warp his little mind if you’re not careful.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” my mother said, shooting me an annoyed look. “Try washing his stained sheets every time he makes a nasty mess in the middle of the night ….”

“Moooom!” I shouted. My mother looked at me as if she was about to slap me silly. I quickly put my hands over my mouth. Thank goodness someone else spoke up. I don’t think I could have handled where she was about to take the conversation.

It was Mrs. Taylor, of all people, who came to my defense. Sort of.

“Oh, I don’t believe David finding these magazines is all that horrible,” she said cheerfully. “Boys will be boys, and they are determined, curious little creatures. I know he is your little your baby,” – she looked directly at me when she said this – “but David was bound to discover these kinds of things eventually. At least you know where and how and what he learned. From now on you can control what he sees and experiences. I’m no mother, but believe me when I say it could be a lot worse.”

Both my mother and my aunt nodded. “I suppose you’re right,” Mom said. She looked dead straight at me as she spoke. “Still, they are pretty awful. We’ll have to figure out how to undo the damage that’s been done.”

“Oh, I think you’re already on the right track,” Mrs. Taylor said with more than a bit of sarcasm in her voice. “These silly magazines put the focus on nude women and girls, right? Well, now that he’s naked in front of us, he gets to experience what that’s like. By sitting with us in his birthday suit he is now the object of our gaze, being exposed to our view.”

“Hmmm, I like where you’re going with this,” sang my Aunt Margaret. “Keep talking. I want to hear more!”

My employer stared at me for a moment, a sly smile on her lips, before continuing. “Why is it that women and girls are the ones who always get looked at? Why can’t they get to see a pretty boy in the nude? Why can’t they see him in the role of ‘damsel in distress’ … to be the one who needs rescuing? Well, David is now learning that they can ... and that he is now the one being looked at … and perhaps in need of rescue.”

I watched nervously as my mother’s friend picked up one of the nudist magazines. It was, of course, the one with the blond boy that I often identified with. She immediately turned to the photographs of my “pretend me” and lingered over them for a moment. I felt my face burn red hot as she held up a photograph showing him posing coyly for the camera against a backdrop of wildflowers.

“Mmmm … does he remind you of anyone?” she said with a girlish giggle. “He certainly reminds me of our pretty little fairy, wouldn’t you agree? All he needs are a few flowers in his hair and they would be twins!”

There was a round of womanly whispers at my employer’s little joke. The bullying woman then reached out and ran her fingers through my hair. I felt a shiver go over my body as she twirled a blond curl between her forefinger and thumb, her eyes staring deep into my own.

“Oh, dearest little David … I bet there are many girls who would enjoy looking at a pretty boy like you,” Mrs. Taylor cooed as she turned to another page showing the young boy in the midst of his female playmates. I glanced over at my mom, who seemed to watching me with great interest. “You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you, my pretty fairy? Getting all of that attention from a bunch of cute girls? I can make that happen if you want.”

I felt my eyes go wide at the suggestion of being presented naked before some girls my own age. My reaction must have been funny because my mom and my aunt both burst out in gleeful laughter. I frowned, started to say something, and decided I was better off not digging the ditch any deeper

"Uh-oh, look at that face!" Aunt Margaret said. "Elizabeth, I think you may be on to something. How about it, faaaaiiiii-ryyyyyy boy? Should we invite some girls over to keep you company? I bet we could find some pretty quickly who'd just love seeing that cute little fat bottom of yours!

"That's not funny, Aunt Margaret!" I cried out. "That's a terrible idea"

"Oh, I think that's a wonderful idea," cooed my mother. “Instead of you spending all your time looking at naked girls women and getting your mind warped, let’s get some girls looking at naked you!”

I watched in horror as she looked over her shoulder toward the Miller house. She then gave me a little wink. "I wonder if Becky is home. I bet she'd love to come over and be part of our little experiment."

I was aghast! Was my mom serious? Was she actually going to let ugly old Fat Becky see me without any clothes? I hunkered down in my seat and pouted, half angry, half scared to death.

"Please, Mom ... not Becky ...."

Again, I was surrounded by a familiar wave of feminine laughter. I felt my entire body burning hot with shame.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Aunt Margaret said. She shot me a sly smile. “Our little David needs a little taste of his own medicine. This could be the perfect first dose!”

Mrs. Taylor grinned. “I think a setting like this is a wonderful opportunity for your precious little David. Putting him on display before an audience of real women and girls, not those silly creatures they put in those ridiculous magazines, that will teach him a powerful lesson.”

My mother reacted in the exact way I didn’t want; I watched helplessly as she endorsed her friend’s proposal and opened the door to my ultimate doom.

“Elizabeth, I’m so glad to hear you say what you did. This is exactly the reason I asked you to stop by this morning. Somebody is getting a little too big for his britches and needs to be taught a little humility.”

“Haha! Too big for his britches,” echoed my Aunt Margaret. “As if he had any britches!”

My mom sighed. “Anyway, I think you’re right, Elizabeth. Maybe seeing things from the other side will change David’s attitude. Or perhaps make him a little more sensitive. At the very least he’ll get a taste of his own medicine. After all, that’s what you want, isn’t it, sweetie? To be naked with a bunch of girls? Hmm? Hmmm?”

After some good-natured laughter there was an awkward pause in the conversation and I saw that all three women were still looking right at me. Mrs. Taylor smiled and put her arm around me as if I was her own flesh and blood.

“You poor little thing, having to sit here and listen to us ugly old women tease and taunt you so cruelly. I imagine you’d rather be anywhere than here, hmm? Hmmm?”

“What do you think?” I said with a pout. “This is humiliating!”

Once again, the table exploded with laughter and I found myself feeling even lower than before as the conversation continued with me trapped in the middle. I hated how my mother knew all of this stuff about me and I really hated that she told my aunt and Mrs. Taylor. I just knew that information would be used against me later, though at the time I couldn’t imagine how.

***

I eventually managed to get away from all this madness when the orange juice ran out and Aunt Margaret suggested someone make some lemonade. All eyes turned to me, of course. I was obviously that “someone.” I was the youngest among the group and the only child; plus, being the naked slave boy for the day didn’t help matters. I quickly scurried off to run my errand. In my haste I made the mistake of running, which meant I had to come back, of course, and ask to be excused.

“Take your time, little fairy boy,” Mom said smugly. “We’re going to be here all day long.”

I felt my mouth go dry. “All day long”? What did she mean by that? I didn’t want to spend the whole stupid day naked! Especially not in front of my mom and a bunch of ladies! She wasn’t serious … was she?

I sure hoped not!

Making lemonade wasn’t all that hard. I got the concentrate from the freezer and put it in the pitcher, along with the prescribed amount of water. Once everything was dissolved and all mixed up, I added ice to the pitcher and carried it out to the picnic table where my mom and our guests were still seated. I didn’t linger long as I knew I was being watched; at this point I did not want to piss off my mother any more than I already had!

“Hmm, someone ought to clear the table, don’t you think?” Aunt Margaret suggested. “I wonder where we can get ‘someone’ to do that for us …?”

Mom chuckled. “Well, I do know a certain pretty little fairy boy who has been most helpful this morning ….”

There was that word, “fairy boy,” again. I sighed as all eyes turned to me. If course, I said I would do it. What other choice did I have? My mom told me to go ahead and wash up the dishes while I was at it.

“Don’t take all day,” she said. “You have guests who want to visit with you, you know.”

It was tempting to linger in the kitchen, but I knew if I did my mother would get mad and come looking for me. I did not need any more drama so I filled the sink with hot sudsy water, slipped on a pair of my mom's rubber gloves and got busy.

I hated washing dishes with a passion – Dad called it “women’s work” – and doing it naked was so humiliating! I really did feel like a slave as I toiled over the pile of sticky plates and greasy cookware; I got so frustrated, in fact, that I had tears running down my face as I scrubbed away.

"Stupid dishes ... stupid Mom ... stupid Mrs. Taylor! Why does this stuff keep happening to me ...??!!!"

At one point I remember looking at my reflection in one of my mother’s shiny stainless steel pans and seeing the roses Mrs. Taylor had placed in my hair. I'd almost forgotten about them and being reminded did not help my morale. I gritted my teeth when I saw the one over my left ear was the same color as the pink rubber gloves on my hands. Yech! Talking about making a guy feel like a sissy!

Looking so stupid and doing women’s work was the worst thing in the world as far as I was concerned. Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly the worst thing that had ever happened to me; being naked and getting teased for it by a bunch of weirded out grownups, that was the worst. Well, that and getting naked tickles was pretty bad, too. But you know what I mean.

“Stupid, stupid dishes,” I muttered as I scrubbed and scrubbed. “Stupid flowers … stupid Mom! Gah! I hate doing women’s work! This is so stupid, stupid, stupid!”

I was about halfway done when I heard the back door open and close. To my surprise, I looked over to see Mrs. Taylor standing at the entrance to the kitchen, a glass of lemonade in her hand.

“I excused myself to come in and use the toilet,” cooed my employer. “All of these beverages make us ladies go tinkle,” she said with a girlish giggle.

I nodded and waited for her to leave. To my surprise the smiling woman made no move toward the bathroom; instead, she leaned against the door frame and lazily swirled the ice in her glass ‘round and ‘round and 'round again, a curious, almost hypnotic look in her eyes. I glanced out the window and saw my mother and my aunt walking through the side yard and around toward the front of the house; they both had excited expressions on their faces and were laughing happily. I felt my stomach drop, triggering a pang of nausea deep down below.

"Where are they going? They're not leaving, are they?"

“Hmmm, it's hard to say,” Mrs. Taylor said. She had a funny smile on her face. “They said something about going next door and inviting one of the neighbors to join in on our fun.”

I must have had a pretty funny look on my face, too, because she saw something in me that made her laugh.

“Hmmm ... I wonder which neighbor it might be,” she cooed in a mocking voice. “I can’t quite remember. Is there a little girl about your age living next door? Ooooo … I bet your mommy went over to get her! Wouldn’t that be fun, David? To have a cute girl come over and see just how ridiculous you are in your birthday suit? I agree with your mommy … I bet you’d just LOOOOOVE that!”

A cold chill went up my spine. The only little girl next door was that stupid ugly old Fat Becky and the very idea of her seeing me in my current state was enough to give me nightmares. The thing was, I couldn't tell if Mrs. Taylor was telling the truth or if she was just teasing me again.

I remember thinking to myself, Mom wouldn’t really do that, would she?

“I … I don’t believe you,” I suddenly said with more than a little defiance in my voice. I surprised myself with my false bravery. “I … I think you’re just making that up.”

Mrs. Taylor’s eyes suddenly lit up and a gleeful smile spread across her perfect movie star lips. It was as though she was actually happy to hear me stand up for myself. I later wondered if it was because she enjoyed seeing me fall back down.

“What? You think I’m fibbing to you? You think I’m not telling the truth? David! What on earth would make you think something like that? I cannot believe you don’t trust me. Really, darling, I’m hurt that you feel this way. Hurt, I tell you! Just devastated!”

The pretty lady threw back her head and gave a boisterous laugh, one that was so loud it could have wakened the dead. I was shocked to hear her make such a rude noise – she was always so graceful and well-poised, at least in my experience, it seemed – and hearing an outburst of such crudeness coming from her threw me off balance. If she’d farted I’d have been no less surprised. Well, then again, maybe not.

The one thing that I got from Mrs. Taylor’s shocking display was that she didn’t take me very seriously – about anything. She treated me and the things I did and said along the same lines as a pet. Well, that’s not exactly true. She respected her cat more than she did me. I mean, not once in all the time I knew her did she ever taunt or tease or talk cruelly to her precious Justine. Not like she did me. She treated that stupid cat better than she did most people, me in particular. No argument about it, I was more of a toy than a pet; something to be played with and put on display and shown off to her friends … and then abandoned when I no longer interested her. Yep, that’s what I was, a silly, useless little boy toy and nothing else.

Well, that was fine with me. I didn’t like her anyway. I mean, I kinda sorta did think she was interesting, but I kinda sorta was scared of her. I suppose it is more accurate to say that she fascinated me. It was complicated. I mean, sure, I was just eleven years old at the time, but I wasn’t blind; I liked girls and women, the prettier the better. And as I told you before, my employer was such a physically beautiful and charismatic creature, it was difficult to take your eyes off her. When I first met her I really did like being around her; having big boobs and a low cut top didn’t hurt, either, if you know what I mean.

But then, after Mrs. Taylor caught me sneaking around her garden naked and then revealing that shameful recording of me playing my stupid naked game, she revealed herself to be a scary, scary person and she made me feel creepy and uncomfortable ever since. Just look at how she talked to me when we were alone together in her house and all of the embarrassing things she made me do; what kind of grown woman teases an eleven year old boy until he cries and then makes him dance naked on her coffee table? What kind of woman resorts to mockery and blackmail and who knows what to make a kid miserable? If that wasn’t reason enough to fear her, I didn’t know what was!

The bottom line was, I did not want to be by myself with that awful woman, not even for five minutes! Not at my house, not at hers, not anywhere on earth! She’d caused me enough trouble in the past couple of days to last me a lifetime. I was terrified of her and I wanted no part of anything she did or had to say.

But there I was, in my mother’s kitchen, without a stitch of clothing to my name, standing just inches away from my archenemy as she looked me up and down like a collector evaluating a piece of art … or a toy that she might eventually purchase. To make matters even more unbearable, I had no idea where my mother or my aunt might be; after disappearing around the side of the house they could be anywhere! I mean, they could very well have been next door inviting that stupid Fat Becky to come over and see me in my birthday suit, or they could have gone shopping for the rest of the day – which meant I would be alone with this horrid woman for hours! Either way I was doomed.

In the time it took me to think on my dilemma I grew so nervous and so upset, I began to shiver all over. Mrs. Taylor noticed my trembling and she smiled; I felt helpless as she wandered aimlessly around the kitchen and asked me the most annoying and irritating questions imaginable.

“So, little fairy, is this how you spend your days at home with your mommy?” The pretty woman sang her words as she gave me a crooked grin and a mischievous wink. “Helping your mommy in the kitchen and cavorting naked in the back yard and entertaining the pretty ladies? Isn't that sweet! You're such a good boy, you know. Ah yes, such a perfect little mommy’s boy. And such a pretty fairy boy, too!”

I frowned. There she was again, teasing me and calling me a stupid fairy! Gah! How I wanted to tell her to shut up, but that probably wasn’t a good idea; if my mom found out I’d only get yelled at … or worse. I also wanted to tell her to stop staring at me; I felt especially naked wearing nothing but those stupid roses in my hair and my mom’s rubber gloves. I turned away so all my employer could see was my back. And my bare bottom, of course. I didn’t care, as long as I didn’t have to look at her.

Mrs. Taylor reached past me and set her lemonade glass down on the countertop. I felt her step close and put her hand on my shoulder; her grip was deceptively painful, especially with those long fingernails, forcing me to turn back around and face her. The scent of her perfume pierced my nostrils and sent a shiver down my naked body.

“Poor, pitiful little thing,” she said with a womanly laugh. “I know I tease you more than I should, but I can’t help myself. I love playing with lovely boys and you really are a lovely boy. I just adore your curly girly hair and that sweet, angelic face with those plump, pouty little lips.”

I winced as she lightly scraped her fingernails up and down my bare chest, flicking them over my nipples in the process. “Mmmmm … I just adore your perfect little boobies. It’s like I’m playing with a lovely little girly girl … but you’re not quite a little girl, are you …?”

I have to tell you, I was so mad I could have spit! Why would she say something like that? Was she trying to make me cry on purpose? Why would she do that? Why was she being so mean to me?

“I … I’m … n-not a stupid … g-g-girl,” I stammered. “I … I’m a … b-boy ….”

“A pretty little sissy boy, you mean ….” My mother’s friend laughed. “Mommy’s pretty … little … sissy … boy ….”

With each word the sadistic woman plucked and pinched my nipples, forcing me backward and trapping me against the kitchen counter. I tried to wave off the aggressive assault with my rubber gloved hands, but my efforts were in vain. I remember looking toward the door and wishing my mom or at least my aunt would show up and rescue me. No such luck. For the time being I was on my own.

“How a boy your age can look so … gorgeous … so beautiful … is beyond me.” Mrs. Taylor looked me up and down, making it dramatically obvious that she was studying my naked body from head to toe; I squirmed as her eyes locked in on my breasts and below.

“So exquisite, so graceful, your soft, useless little body is a work of art. Although I must say with that plump belly you may want to cut back on the pancakes. And the whipped cream as well. You’ll turn into a real fatty if you’re not careful, David. And nobody likes a fatty, do they, my pretty little fairy boy?”

Oooooh, by this time I was furious! I knew I was a little plump and I sure as heck didn’t need anybody reminding me, especially the likes of her! Getting fat, having boy boobs and a chubby belly and a big butt, those were all reasons why I didn’t like people seeing me naked in the first place. Why did Mrs. Taylor have to bring all that stuff up? Why did she have to be so mean to me and make fun of me? Was she trying to make me mad and get me to cry? If so, she was certainly doing a fine job of it!

Unfortunately for me, the bullying woman wasn’t done teasing me. Or hurting me. Not quite yet.

“Poor naked little sissy David. Poor little thing,” she cooed. “Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be if your friends from school could see you right now? Wouldn't that just be awful, if everyone could see what I see right now, your fat, tubby little naked body ... with your silly little titties and your bare baby bottom and that useless piece of gristle between your girly girly legs ...? Mmmmm ... that would be so delicious ...."

I cringed as she reached out and pinched one of my nipples with her perfectly manicured fingernails. She then tugged on it hard enough to make me think she was trying to pull it off.

"Oooowww ... Mrs. Taylor ... please don't ... you're hurting meeeee ...." I wanted to pull away, but I was afraid of hurting myself even more. “Pleeeeeeasssssse ….”

"Awww, is the fat little sissy going to cry? Go ahead, little sissy, cry for me. Call your mommy while you’re at it and tell her how the mean old woman hurt the little sissy."

I thought about doing exactly that. I wiped my eyes on my arm – I still had those stupid rubber gloves on and they were covered with soap suds! – and I reluctantly looked at my tormentor. I felt an enormous sense of helplessness as I tried to call out to my mom; my heart raced and my lungs wouldn’t work right. It was as though I had succumbed to some evil magic spell.

That’s when the beautiful bully laughed at me.

“Aha! You’re not going to tell your mother, are you?” Mrs. Taylor taunted. “You can’t tell on me and you know it! Because you know if you tell on me … I’ll tell on you.”

I blinked, then I blinked again.

“That’s right,” my tormentor purred. “Say a word to your mommy about the mean old Mrs. Taylor and I’ll tell her all about how her precious sissy David snuck into my house and performed his little naked perverted antics. If you think this is bad, just wait until your mommy finds out that I have pictures of her precious little David knows performing his little naked perverted antics … and they are sooooo cuuuuuuuute ….”

Images of my naked self from Mrs. Taylor’s surveillance video flashed through my mind: in a flash I imagined my mother watching the television and seeing me undress and toss my clothes in the air. That was not good. I felt sick at the thought of her seeing me hopping and skipping about in the nude; rolling about on the floor and giggling like a fool; and dancing like a freakish ballerina on that huge oak coffee table. It didn’t take much imagination to realize that my mom would probably have a heart attack if she saw me doing those things in her friend’s home. Heck, I almost had a heart attack remembering that I actually did them myself!

The cruel Mrs. Taylor clucked her tongue and sighed. She acted as though she was playing out a role in some dramatic presentation … and she was the conniving villainous in the midst of the story.

“So, let’s don’t dwell on the past, my pretty fairy. Let’s think about the future, okay?”

I licked my lips – for some reason my mouth was really, really dry – and nodded. “Um … I guess. What … what do you … mean?”

“What do I mean? Well, David, let’s think … the way your weekend has gone so far, let’s imagine … what might happen next? Wouldn’t that be fun? Hmm? Hmmm?”

My tormentor sang her words happily and with great joy; she obviously enjoyed making me feel weird about myself.

“I mean, who knows what might happen in the next few minutes. Why, a pretty girl might walk into this very room in the next second or so … and what would you do then? Hmm? Hmmm? Would you cry like you did for me just now? Hmm, sissy boy? Would you cry if a pretty girl saw you naked right now? Hmmm?”

I felt my face burn hot with shame, but I didn’t say a word. My evil employer reached out with both hands and cupped my plump breasts, running her thumbs over my tender nipples. I tried to back away, but trapped against the countertop there was nowhere for me to go.

“I wonder … that sweet little girl you like … what was her name? Oh yes … Jennifer Wilson. I wonder what she would say if she walked in this kitchen and saw you right this minute, just as you are. Do you think she’d like seeing your pretty little titties? Or perhaps those pretty flowers in your hair? Do you think she would like seeing you wearing those?”

My breathing increased along with my frustration. I looked around and wondered where my mom was. How could this be happening to me???

“And what about that tubby little belly and girly bare bottom … or that ridiculous looking little twig and those useless little berries between your legs? Do you think she’d be impressed with those teeny tiny things? Do you? Hmmm? Do you?”

There was a long pause. I didn’t say anything, but I was breathing heavily and starting to sob. I was so ashamed my eyes started burning and tears ran down my cheeks. I looked up at my employer and saw that she was as happy as she could be; I remembered how she reacted to my crying while at her house and realized she was as cruel now as she was then.

“I asked you a question, David. Do you think your dear Jennifer would be impressed if she saw you like this? Hmm? Hmmm?”

I cleared my throat and croaked, “N-n-no … I d-d-don’t … don’t think so ….”

My reply generated an evil laugh. “No, I don’t think so, either. What do you think she’d do? Come on, speak up. Don’t be shy. How would she act if she saw you at this very instant?

I didn’t want to answer that question. I wanted to cover my ears and pretend my captor wasn’t even there, but she stood over me so close I could smell her breath and feel the heat from her body. I had to answer her; there was no way I couldn’t.

“I … I think … she’d … laugh at me,” I squeaked in a fearful whisper.

“Hmmm … that’s what you THINK?” Mrs. Taylor’s face glowed with pleasure. “You only THINK she would laugh at you? Don’t you KNOW she would?”

I shrugged. “M- … may- … maybe,” I croaked.

The cruel woman sniffed. “You’re not very bright, are you, David? You see, if your sweet little Jennifer, or any other girl, for that matter, walked into this room and saw you standing there in your pitiful naked state, I guarantee you’d get laughed at. And why not? You are quite silly, you know. Just look at yourself, with that tubby little belly and that teeny tiny weenie and that bare baby bottom and that curly girly hair. What girl wouldn’t laugh at a boy with all of that? She’d look at you and just laugh and laugh and laugh. Oh yes, my fat little naked fairy, you’re exactly right. She is just going to laugh and laugh and laugh when she sees you all naked and looking so silly. That’s what I’d do and that is exactly what she will do, too!”

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to block out the sight of the offensive woman before me. Not surprisingly, the image of Jennifer Wilson seeing me washing dishes in my bare skin came to mind, and it shamed me. Which was odd if you think about that; it wasn’t that long ago – only a couple of days ago – that I thought it might be fun if Jennifer saw me naked. You remember, don’t you, how I imagined her and her friends doing all sorts of naughty things to me? Oh sure, I didn’t understand most of them, but it seemed like a bit of harmless fun, didn’t it? I mean, what boy hasn’t at least thought of that once in his life?

But now, after all I’d been through in the past day or so, I certainly saw things differently. Real life was nothing at all like fantasy. Every word my employer said was true; I was nothing but a laughing stock among boys. I was all too aware of how silly looking I was with my fat, effeminate pre-adolescent body and my curly blond hair and babyish face; I knew painfully well if Jennifer really saw me without any clothes she would laugh at me. She would be no different than Tessie and Niecy, laughing and pointing and making fun of me in Mrs. Taylor’s garden, and teasing me until I cried.

No, what I wanted was just make believe, just silly little pretend game I played to satisfy my boyish curiosity. I never thought any of this would really happen; not really. And when it did, it was just horrible. Getting caught naked was the worst thing that had ever happened to me and I regretted the dreadful mess I’d gotten myself into!

I opened my eyes and, unfortunately for me, my gorgeous employer was still there, that weird, crooked smile on her face and the single eyebrow raised as a warning that the worst was yet to come.

“What was that?” she cooed. “Hoping I’d go away? Wishing you were someone else? Haha! Sorry about your lucky, sissy boy. You’re stuck here in and I am not going anywhere!”

“Please, Mrs. Taylor, stop being mean to me,” I said politely. I wiped my eyes again and sniffed back a sob. “This is bad enough as it is. You’re just making me feel worse.”

The gorgeous woman smiled at me with her movie star face and chuckled. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was I being mean to you? Did I say something to make the poor little sissy cry? Did the little crybaby get his feelings hurt?”

I shook my head. “That’s not what I … I meant … please … don’t talk like that ….”

The bullying woman made an exaggerated pouty face, obviously mocking me. “Oooo, poor little David. Maybe I ought to go get his mommy and let her know what a naughty boy he was at my house. Maybe I should invite her over and show her the recording of you acting so nasty and naughty. I think she’d find it interesting, knowing how you took off your clothes and went sneaking around my house like a thief in the night. I bet she’d just love that! Oh yes, she would just looooove seeing the perverted little shenanigans you play when you think you’re alone in someone else’s home.”

There was nothing I could say to that. My mother’s friend had me in her clutches, just like a super villain in a comic book and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Oh, how I wanted to scream at her, to curse her and tell her what I thought of her! But I kept silent. I was way too scared to do anything else.

In an attempt to show at least a little defiance, I turned so my protruding stomach – along with my penis and balls, of course! – was pressed up against the kitchen counter, which of course left my naked butt exposed to my employer’s view. It didn’t help me feel any better, but it was the best I could do at the time.

Mrs. Taylor whistled, just like guys do when they see a pretty girl. “Ooooo, that’s nice. Thank you, David. Now I can see your fat little butt … and what a cute little butt it is! Do you know it looks just like a little girl’s pret-ty bottom? And it’s even prettier outside in the bright daylight. I bet you just love showing your pret-ty bottom to your mommy and aunty. Do you, David? Hmm? Is that why you were running around in the back yard in your birthday suit? So you could show off that pret-ty little girly body to your mommy and your aunty? Am I right? Hmm? Am I? Hmmm?”

There was that musical laugh again, so sophisticated, so melodic, it gave me the creeps; if you didn’t listen to the actual words that came out of her mouth, you would have thought my employer was complimenting me, raising up my spirits, even. But her words did not do that; they had the exact opposite effect on me, tearing me down and rendering me to tears and anxiety with her ugly talk. How could someone so sophisticated and so elegant be so vicious?

“Oh David, if only you knew how foolish you look, just like a big baby, running about in the nude with those silly little roses in your curly girly hair, waiting on your pretty mommy and auntie. What a funny, silly, useless little boy you are. All you’re good for is standing around and looking pretty, pretty … pret-ty. Maybe if I invited Jennifer and her friends to come over and see you right now, just as you are, you’d finally understand just how sad and pathetic you really are.”

By this time I was nearly hyperventilating, but the bullying woman wasn’t done with me. Not just yet.

“Hmm, what’s the name of that little girl next door? The one you call ‘Fat Becky’? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! You call her fat, but you’re the fatty, aren’t you? isn’t that funny? Hmm? Hmmm?”

“It’s … it’s not funny,” I replied, my voice husky and breathless. “I … I’m … not fat.”

“Oh, but you are a fat, my little sissy fairy. You’re a fatty and you know it. And I bet your little neighbor friend would just looooooove seeing what a little hypocrite you are! I bet she would just love seeing you in the nude, and finding out how fat you really are when you don’t have any clothes! After all the times you called her fat, the tables would turn and she would find out your nasty little secret! You’d be the fatty fat one and she would get to call you fatty fat fat! Now wouldn’t that be a lot of fun?”

“Wh-why are you even here?” I suddenly said, my eyes watering up with tears. “This isn’t my fault! This … th-this all your fault! I didn’t want to do any of this! It’s all your fault I got caught! It’s all your fault my mom made me go naked like this! It’s all your fault! And so I hope you’re happy!”

I don’t know what got into me, but something snapped and I found the courage to lash out. It just happened to be Mrs. Taylor who got the first barrage, which in retrospect probably wasn’t the smartest thing I ever did. I wiped the salty tears from my eyes with my arm and nearly sobbed with frustration.

“This is all your fault!” I sobbed. “Thanks t-t-to you … I g-g-got c-c-caught coming home … *sob!* … last night. It t-took me almost … *sob!* … an hour to get back because I had t-to t-t-take the … the l-long way! I got … *sob!* … got home late … and then … m-m-my m-mom … saw me n-naked … and now she … sh-she’s got me going … going n-n-naked out- … outside! And it’s all … *sob!* … y-your f-f-fault!”

Mrs. Taylor’s lips curled up in a wolfish snarl with that one eyebrow raised up, giving her face a cruel, predatory appearance as she mocked me. “Soooo … it’s all my fault, is it? It’s all my fault you’re a little fat f-f-fairy?” She giggled like a spoiled little girl. “It’s my f-f-fault you got c-c-caught sneaking around n-n-naked in my house? It’s m-m-my f-fault that your m-m-mommy is … m-making th-the wittle cr-cr-crybaby g-go … n-n-naked? P-poor wittle fat David … in his pwetty wittle fat fairy costume! P-poor wittle cr-cry-b-b-baby! You are s-s-so p-p-pitiful!”

My employer then took a sip of her drink and laughed at her little joke, which made me feel like crying even more.

“You … you’re mean!” I sobbed. “You … you’re meaner th-than an old … w-w-witch! I … I j-just wish you’d … you’d g-g-go a-w-w-way!”

I immediately regretted my outburst as I’d never spoken to an adult with such harsh language. This was a new experience for me and I just knew Mrs. Taylor would tell my mom and I’d be in even worse trouble than before.

I started to say something else – I’m not sure what it was, but I’m sure it was pretty stupid – when I was suddenly surprised when I heard a familiar voice speak up.

“DAVID ALLEN CARTWRIGHT!!! DID YOU JUST SAY WHAT I THINK YOU SAID??? WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING???”

I literally jumped when I saw my mother and my Aunt Margaret standing over on the other side of the kitchen. They had apparently come through the dining room entrance and heard my outburst. Just how much of it I didn’t know, but it was enough to cause my mom to have a conniption fit!

“I asked you a question, little mister! What the hell are you thinking? How dare you talk to an adult like that! And especially one of my friends? I’ll ask you again … what the hell were you thinking???”

“Please … Mom … it … it’s wasn’t my fault!” I squeaked. “She … sh-she m-made me m-m-mad! She … she was t-t-teasing me and … she made me … she m-m-made me c-cry … and I got mad. It’s not my f-f-fault, Mom! It really isn’t! I … I p-promise!!!”

To my surprise Mrs. Taylor corroborated my story. Only to hear it from her lips it didn’t sound quite so horrible. As a matter of fact, it sounded like we were having quite a nice time together until I started yelling.

“Honestly, Mary, David is right. It really is all my fault,” my employer said in all sincerity. “I was teasing him just a bit, like we did when we were outside. It was all in good natured fun, but then I must have gone too far and things got out of control and went kind of crazy, I suppose ….”

My mother, not surprisingly, took her friend’s side. “Elizabeth, you do not have anything to apologize for! Nothing you said deserved the kind of name-calling and bratty language I just heard. I taught my son better than that. He apparently forgot what he was taught. I suppose that’s his father in him, sad to say. Regardless, he’s going to learn to watch his mouth and behave. Or there will be hell to pay!”

I watched nervously as Aunt Margaret whispered something into my mother’s ear. There was a nod, then some more whispering, after which my mom disappeared.

“Your mother has gone to get her hairbrush,” Aunt Margaret said. “She’ll take straighten this out in just a minute, then you can get back to your chores and the adults can get back to enjoying this beautiful morning.”

I nodded, though I had no idea what my aunt was talking about. Why would my mom need her hairbrush?

“You may as well take off those gloves,” Aunt Margaret directed. “You won’t be needing them for the next few minutes.

I did as I was told, laying those stupid pink gloves on the edge of the sink. I then turned around and just stood there – not saying a word, my hands by my side – and waited to see what was going to happen next.

The kitchen was silent as we waited. Mrs. Taylor had a smug look on her face while my aunt just scowled at me. It suddenly occurred to me that without my mom’s gloves I was even more naked than I was before. I gave my aunt a weak smile, then shrugged my shoulders in an innocent a manner as I could muster. She pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Being cute isn’t going to work this time, little buddy. You are in deep doo-doo.”

The look on her face was more serious than usual. I was, indeed, in “deep doo-doo.”

Oh crap oh crap ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap ….

A minute later my mom returned to the kitchen. She had the very same smug look on her face as did Aunt Margaret and Mrs. Taylor. I noticed she also had her hairbrush in her hand.

Aunt Margaret held out her hand. “Shall I do the honors or do you want to hog them for yourself?” she said happily. “You’re pretty upset … you might overdo it if you’re not careful.”

Mom sniffed. “Oh, I’m doing this, all right,” she snapped. “He’s my son, not yours, and so he’s responsibility. I’m going to fix him … if it’s the last thing I do on this earth.”

I was ordered to follow my mother over to the kitchen table. I did as I was told, feeling like a bug under a microscope as I padded barefoot and bare bottomed before my aunt and Mrs. Taylor; they both had those stupid smarmy grins on their faces, as if they knew something I didn’t. Mom pulled one of the chairs out from beneath the table. Only when she motioned for me to come closer did I fully grasp what was about to happen.

Oh … crap ….

“Please … Mom … Mommy ….” I squeaked. “Not this … I’m too old … for a … a s-s-spanking ….”

“You’re not too old for a spanking,” quipped Aunt Margaret. “Especially after all the crap you’ve been pulling. Do as your mother says!”

My mother sniffed. “I should have done this a long time ago, but I didn’t. I might have saved myself a lot of trouble if I had.”

“It’s never too late to correct a wrong,” cooed Mrs. Taylor. I looked up to see her smiling down at me with spiteful approval. “Little boys … big boys … they are all the same. Sometimes you just have to … attract their attention … before you can set them on the right course.”

“I like that,” my aunt said with a laugh. “Spoken like a woman with experience.”

“Did you hear that, David?” My mother pulled me close and gave my butt a quick but waking WHACK!!! with that awful hairbrush. “Mrs. Taylor says I need to attract your attention. Am I doing a good job so far? Do I have your attention yet?”

The sensation of the hard, flat wood on my bare bottom was not a pleasant one. It felt like I’d been touched with a hot iron. “Owwwww … please … Mommy … nooooooooooo ….” I sobbed.

“No? How about now?”

There was another loud WHACK!!! and the pain hit my bare bottom like a jolt of electricity. I danced about like a toddler getting his first spanking, which added to my humiliation.

“MOM!!! Please … that’s not what I meant,” I squealed. “Please … no more! Please ….”

“Well, that’s more like it,” my mother growled. “Now that I have your attention, let’s see if we change your attitude while we’re at it.”

I suddenly felt myself being pushed toward the kitchen chair. A pair of hands pressed against my shoulders and I was directed to bend over and grab the seat, one hand on each side; this forced me to look down and left my bottom facing my mom and my aunt and their friend.

I stayed like that for the longest time, with my bare bottom up and my face down and the worrisome sound of womanly whispers and giggles behind me. Needless to say, I felt extremely self-conscious and more than a little scared. As much as I did not want to get spanked, I prayed for this to be all over with as soon as possible!

Finally, after who knows how long, Aunt Margaret and Mrs. Taylor each pulled out a chair and sat on either side of me. I remember looking left, then right; a smug, smiling face greeted me no matter which way I faced. It seemed that I now had an audience. An eager and curious audience, awaiting a performance … from yours truly.

This whole situation was so surreal, like some awful dream, being upended like that, my face down looking at the floor and my bare butt up on high. At that moment I never felt so vulnerable in my life! I knew already that this was going to be nothing like my aunt pretending to spank me. And yes, I’d been seriously spanked before, but that had been a long time ago, probably before I started grade school. Ironically, that’s how I felt as I was, bent over that stupid chair, like a small, naughty little child, helpless and afraid.

“Get ready,” I heard my mother say. “This is going to hurt you a lot more than it’s going to hurt me.”

“Pleeeeease … Mom … not like this! Not … in front of other people ….” I choked out my words, sobbing for breath and clenching my butt cheeks together in utter humiliation. “N-n-not … like … thi-this ….”

WHAPPP!!!

“Not like what?” my mother asked. “Oh, you mean not like this?”

WHACK!!!

I know, when you’re nearly twelve you’re not supposed to cry, even if you get a spanking. After all, you’re not a little kid anymore, right? Well, I failed that test. Between the surprise of suddenly being bent over and getting my butt beat for no apparent good reason, and having this done in front of my aunt and a woman who was practically a stranger to me, oh, and having been paraded around the yard all morning in my birthday suit, I had every reason to cry. And cry I did! I wailed and I wallowed and I screamed as loud as I could! I was hurting, both on my bare bottom and my feelings, and I let it be known far and wide. Legend has it my screams could be heard down the street, they were so loud.

“PLEEEEASSSSE MOOOOOOOM!!! NOOOOOO!!!! NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOO!!!! STOP!!! PLEASE MOM PLEASE MOM PLEASE MOM!!! I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I WON’T DO IT AGAIN AS LONG AS I LIVE I’M SO SORRY PLEASE STOP SPANKING MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”

There was a lot more to it than that, of course. I left out the squeals and squeaks and choking and sniffing and snorting parts. And there were a lot of those.

Funny – well, funny weird, not funny haha – how the spanking actually didn’t take that long. I was told later that Mom only gave me a dozen or so smacks and that the entire spanking probably only took a couple of minutes. But let me tell you, it sure seemed a lot longer. If you’d asked me at the time I would have sworn she’d hit me thirty or forty times over the course of an hour; I squawked and I squealed and I cried like a little baby, it hurt so much. I guess I was so surprised and shocked by what was happening it messed with my mind.

Immediately following my paddling Mom asked me once again if she had attracted my attention; suffice it to say, she most certainly did!

“Y-y-ye- … y-y-yes … m-ma’am ….” I sobbed pathetically. “I … I-I’m p-paying attention … I … I p-promise ….”

“I better have your attention,” my mother warned. She put her hand on my shoulder, directing me to stand upright. I was then turned around so she could look me in the eye. “And I better keep it. Next time it’ll be twice as many whacks. Better yet, I may just tell your father and let him deal with you!”

I froze at the mention of my father; he was the last person on earth I wanted to know about any of this! I pictured him for a moment standing there in the dining room looking at me and shaking his head in disappointment. We’d had some problems lately, mostly due to me not following his footsteps in team sports and being more like him when he was young. To make a long story short, I wasn’t at all like him – despite my mother’s constant insistence – and that was a problem. Just the mere thought of him seeing me in my birthday suit, being treated like a grade schooler by my mom in front of friends and family, that was enough to put me on alert!

“Please don’t tell Dad,” I whispered politely. “I’ll be better, I promise. Just don’t tell Dad, all right? Pleeeeeeeasssssse???”

I couldn’t see my mom’s face, but she laughed a laugh that let me know I’d lost and she had won. It almost evil, that laugh of hers. Almost as evil as the one Mrs. Taylor let go as she watched me beg.

“We’ll see,” my mother said. “In the meantime, you need to apologize to Mrs. Taylor. Then finish up in the kitchen and come back outside. It’s too nice a day to spend inside moping about and feeling sorry for yourself.”

I watched with curiosity as my mom bent over and picked up something from the floor. It was the two roses Mrs. Taylor had stuck in my hair; they had apparently fallen during my beating. I stood stock still as my mother replaced the flowers, one over each ear. She then kissed me twice, once on each cheek, like she used to when I was little. It felt funny, having her mess with my hair like that. Getting kisses made it feel even stranger.

“There. Now you look like my pretty little boy again. Isn’t that better?”

“Can I put on some clothes now …?” I asked in as hopeful a voice as I could muster.

My mother laughed. “I don’t think so! Why ruin a good thing? Remember, this is what you wanted, right? To run around without any clothes?” She cut me off before I could argue the point. “Uh-uh! Not another word. You just do as you’re told and everything will be all right.”

“That’s right,” Mrs. Taylor cooed. “Just do as your mommy says and you’ll be fine.”

The three women all tittered at that last remark. I gritted my teeth and refrained from saying anything else that would get me another beating.

“Go ahead and make your apology to Mrs. Taylor,” my mom said hastily. “Go on before I get impatient and give you another paddling.”

Crap. I’d forgotten all about that stupid apology. I didn’t want to apologize to anybody at this point, especially not someone as evil as Mrs. Taylor. And especially not while I was naked! But I didn’t have much choice in the matter, not if I didn’t want another spanking. It took me a moment to catch my breath. I glanced around to see my mother frowning at me, my Aunt Margaret grinning and Mrs. Taylor smiling. I sighed and nodded. There was no way I was getting out of this.

“I … I’m sorry, Mrs. Taylor,” I whispered hoarsely. “I … I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you.”

“And shown such disrespect ….” interrupted my mother.

“And shown such disrespect,” I added.

“And used such rude language ….” my mom added.

I sighed. “And used such rude language.”

“And I will never do it again ….”

“And I will never do it again.”

“So please forgive me.”

“So please forgive me.”

I looked over at my mom to see if that was satisfactory. She nodded for me to look back at Mrs. Taylor. I glanced at my employer, who looked down at me with those beautiful, perfectly made up eyes and a hungry, evil smile spread across her bright red painted lips. Suddenly, just for an instant, she looked as though she was about to burst out laughing as she opened her perfect mouth; instead of laughter, however, her voice was as lush and gorgeous as her movie star appearance.

“Thank you, David, for that lovely apology. I’m sure it was just a lapse in judgment, so do not worry. All is forgiven. You’re a very lovely little boy and I so enjoy being around you. I hope we become very good friends.”

There was an awkward moment of silence. For a moment I wondered if I was supposed to shake her hand or something. I sure hoped I didn’t have to hug her! I looked at my mom, who nodded for me to do something. I thought for a second, then held out my hand; Mrs. Taylor took the cue and slid her hand over mine, giving it a warm shake and then holding onto it for a lot longer than I would have liked.

“Okay you two, I’ll leave you to make friends.” Mom looked dead at me and tapped me on the nose with her hairbrush. “And I better get a good report on you from Mrs. Taylor, my pretty little fairy. Or I’ll set your little butt on fire again!”

The room was quiet as my mother and aunt departed. I could hear the back door slam shut, and then their voices fade as they moved away from the house and toward the picnic table. I thought for an instant about how awful it would be when I went back outside, having to worry about being naked outside and what if Becky or Mrs. Mullins showed up; but then I realized I was still holding hands with my evil employer. I tried to pull away, but she tightened her grip and would not let me go.

“How perfectly wonderful!” Mrs. Taylor purred cheerily once my mom and aunt were out of earshot. “That little show you and your mother just put on was the most fun I’ve had in quite some time! She really let your fat little bottom have it, didn’t she? That must have really hurt, hmm? Oh, yes, it was a real delight, a real treat, indeed!”

“Fun for you, not for me,” I muttered meekly. I tried once again to pull my hand away but her grip grew so tight it began to hurt.

“Mmmmm, yes, little fairy, it was indeed fun for me. Quite a bit of fun.” The pretty lady spun me around, looked at my bare butt and laughed. “Your little red face goes perfectly with that fat little red bottom you now have. And your tears are simply delightful! Go on, crybaby, cry, cry, cry all you want. After all, that’s what crybabies do. They just cry and cry and cry. Just like you.”

To make her point the bullying woman squeezed my hand so hard that it actually hurt; she then squeezed it a bit more, causing me to wince and sob in pain.

“Oh my, look at that. You can’t go a minute without crying can you, you little crybaby! Go ahead, little sissy, let me see some more tears. Oh, there they are! How marvelous. How perfectly marvelous.”

As it had happened so many times before, Mrs. Taylor’s words hurt me more than her touch, but together they made me feel so bad about myself I couldn’t help but cry. I bit my lip to keep from sobbing, but it was a struggle. I finally gave in and cried, once again like a little baby.

My evil employer laughed. “You know, I thought you were pretty when you were naked, but you’re even prettier when you cry. I can’t wait for you to come visit me at my house again. I’m going to make you even prettier than you are right now. And I’m going to make you cry even more than you are right now. I know that’s hard to believe, but I can do both quite easily. It’ll be an experience you will never forget.”

Well, that didn’t help matters at all. I just sobbed away before my smiling employer in my birthday suit, my emotions and my body completely exposed and at her mercy. My hand ached and my heart ached; the pain from where my mother had paddled me with that stupid hairbrush added to the hurt. And so I cried and I cried and I cried some more, until I was finally cried out.

Once I finally stopped my bawling, I wiped my eyes and did my best to compose myself. I tried to ignore the cruel bully standing over me, to pretend that the last ten minutes never happened. I turned back to the sink, got a paper towel and wiped my eyes and blew my nose. I then rinsed out my dishrag and washed my face. I glanced up by accident to see my employer watching me, that ever-present smile spread across her blood red lips.

“Sooooo, pretty boy … feel better now? Oh, you’re still mad at me, hmm? Well, as your mother would say, too bad, so sad. But that’s to be expected. We can change that. Like I said a few minutes ago, you and I are destined to become the best of friends. That I can promise you. Mmmm … what can I do to get you to like me? Oh, I know! You’ve got a birthday coming up if I remember correctly.”

I nodded. This was the weirdest conversation. Come to think of it, just about every conversation I had with Mrs. Taylor was pretty weird.

“Yes, next week,” I said in a hoarse voice. “I … I’ll be … t-twelve”

I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth. I didn’t want Mrs. Taylor to know I had a birthday coming up; I didn’t want her to have anything to do with my birthday. But it was too late. I had a bad feeling about where this conversation was going and I felt a sickening flutter deep inside my stomach.

Mrs. Taylor took a sip from her lemonade and nodded. “Twelve years old. What a wonderful age. I remember it quite fondly. Well, don’t you worry, my little fairy. I’m inspired! I’m going to arrange a special birthday surprise, just for you. It’ll be something you’ll just love, I guarantee it. You’ll be so happy when you see what I’m going to do, you won’t be able to stand it. You’ll be so happy happy happy, and full of joy joy joy, when you get your surprise, it will be absolutely marvelous!”

My employer finished off her lemonade and handed me the empty glass. She then stepped close to me, reached down and caressed the side of my face, tracing my chin with a perfectly manicured fingernail.

“That, my little fairy friend, is a promise,” she said with an evil laugh.

And with that she turned and sauntered lazily out of the kitchen, humming happily along the way.

I stood alone in the kitchen, speechless and filled with worry. Just a short while ago all I had to concern myself with was spending the morning naked in the back yard; now I had a red bottom so sore I couldn’t bear to sit, my mom was mad at me and I had a mysterious birthday surprise to worry about.

But first I had to get through the remainder of this day.

To be continued ….

(End of File)