Be Careful What You Ask For 5

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. During my 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 Five – I Get Tricked Into Going Naked … Again!

The next day felt really weird to me. The day felt weird, I felt weird … everything felt just plain weird.

For whatever reason that morning I put on a dress shirt and my heaviest jeans and my best belt and I made sure I was buttoned up safe and secure, from head to toe. I guess I was so shaken by being seen naked in front of, how many was it? Let’s see, there was Niecy and Tessie … and their mom … and that creepy Mrs. Taylor … wow! I’d been naked in front of four females, all in the same day! Two girls and two women. Yikes! And that wasn’t even counting being naked within sight of Jennifer and Janie – although they didn’t actually see me but I could kinda sorta see them – so that technically didn’t count. But it almost happened, so that was good enough for me!

Geez, wasn’t that enough adventure for a lifetime? It was for me, let me tell you!

All that day at school I was a mess, my thoughts constantly on what happened at Mrs. Taylor’s house. I didn’t talk to hardly any of my friends and I couldn’t keep my mind on my classes to save my life. If I just thought about the harassment I’d endured at the hands of Niecy and Tessie, my face would burn hot as hell and tear would burn my eyes; it got so bad that Mrs. Campbell, my sixth grade teacher, suggested that I go to the nurse’s station and get my temperature taken.

“You don’t look well, David,” she said after putting her hand on my forehead. “Are you sure you’re not sick? Poor thing … you look miserable and you feel like you might have a little touch of a fever.”

Normally I would have soaked up this kind of attention from my favorite teacher – especially if it meant getting a close up view of her bounteous boobs – but not that day. I just mumbled something about being all right and tried to avoid eye contact with her or anybody else.

Speaking of avoiding contact with people, Jennifer Wilson and Janie Johnson made a point to talk to me every time we crossed paths that day, which seemed like every five minutes to me. It almost felt like they were stalking me, following me around and asking all sorts of nosey questions about where I’d been the day before and what I was going to be doing that afternoon. It was damned irritating given my state of mind at the time.

“Where were you yesterday, David?” Jennifer fussed. “We stopped by Mrs. Taylor’s and we knocked and we knocked and you never came to the door. We even went around to the back gate and tried to get in that way, but it was locked. Did you go home early or something?”

“Something, I guess,” I replied. “Sorry I missed you.”

Janie had to put in her opinion, of course. “Jenny thinks you were just hiding from her,” she teased. “What’s the matter, were you too scared to let us in? You afraid of getting in trouble with mean ol’ Mrs. Taylor?”

That really hit me hard. Janie was right, but not for the reasons she thought. Of course I hid from them! Of course I was scared – heck, I was terrified when they almost caught me naked in Mrs. Taylor’s garden! I still couldn’t believe I was within arm’s reach and they didn’t see my naked butt! It was one of the most terrifying things that almost happened to me, but I couldn’t tell them that, of course. Nor could they ever find out what happened later on after they left. I would have rather died than let them know about the horrible experience I had with Miss Thelma and her daughters!

“Maybe we’ll stop by this afternoon,” Jennifer cooed in that flirty, musical way she had about her. “Don’t be in such a hurry, okay?”

“Yeah, and don’t be such a coward this time,” sneered Janie. “Let us in when we knock! We want to see Mrs. Taylor’s garden!”

After school I went straight home. I did not go to Mrs. Taylor’s house, I did not get nude and I did not have another crazy imaginary naked adventure. I didn’t feel like facing Mrs. Taylor and I sure as heck didn’t want to risk Jennifer and Janie catching me naked again. As far as I was concerned I was never doing any of those awful things again! I had enough weirdness in my life for the moment and all I wanted was a little peace and quiet for a change.

Seriously, after all I’d been through I was perfectly content to sit in my room and do nothing but homework for the rest of my life, completely dressed and all buttoned up and comfortable in my shirt and jeans and sneakers; I didn’t need no cats, no fish and no weird girls or women around to tease me and make my life miserable. I was more than happy keeping strictly to myself. Well, maybe not happy, but less unhappy, I guess. And that was good enough for me!

Leave it to my mother to ruin my plans.

I’d been home about an hour, in my room with the door shut trying to read a book – and trying not to worry about all the things that had happened to me – when I heard the telephone ring. I didn’t think much about it until my mom called me downstairs. I figured it was call from my father saying he was going to be late again. I was wrong.

“That was Mrs. Taylor,” my mother said. “She told me that you didn’t stop by her house today. Is that true?”

I felt my face turn bright red. I’d been expecting something like this, so I had my excuse already prepared. A lame excuse, but an excuse none the same.

“Oh yeah, um, … well, she came home about the time I left last night, so I didn’t think I was supposed to go back. Her housekeeper stopped by, too. I just figured that meant she didn’t need my help anymore.”

My mother smiled. “Well, there’s obviously a misunderstanding. Elizabeth is expecting you. She just spent ten minutes on the phone with me raving over what a wonderful job you did while she was gone. She went on and on about it, she was so happy. She’s hoping you’ll keeping coming by to take care of her plants and feed the fish. She also said Justine missed you.”

I wasn't expecting to hear that, of course. I figured if anything Mrs. Taylor would have told my mom about the pervert she found sneaking around in her back yard, but that apparently didn’t happen. Why exactly, I had no idea. I just knew that if I wasn’t careful I was in for a world of hurt if my parents ever found out what I’d been doing.

“Why don’t you go back and help her for a little while? She’s looking forward to seeing you, and that’s saying a lot coming from someone like her. Her family is very wealthy and expects only the best. You should be proud of yourself for making such a good impression.”

I tried to be nonchalant Mrs. Taylor’s phone call, but I don't think I did a very good job of it.

“I dunno. I’m kinda busy and stuff, y’know. I got homework and … you know … stuff to do.”

“That’s nonsense!” Mom crossed her arms and gave me The Look. “Don’t give me that! You don’t have any ‘stuff to do.’ The semester is almost over and you’ve got nothing to do. You can help Mrs. Taylor and it will only a little time out of your day. The responsibility will do you good.”

I tried arguing my case, but I was shut down. I shrugged and dug my toe into the carpet. “Okay, well, I guess I can do it.”

My mother gave me a funny look. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You’re not in trouble, are you? You might as well tell me now because I will find out sooner or later.”

I assured her everything was fine. I said I’d stop by and see Mrs. Taylor the next day.

Mom smiled, which was good. But then she had to open her mouth, which was bad.

“Why don’t you go on over there now? You could use the exercise. Besides, she’s got your money for you. She is really eager to see you. Supper is leftovers, so you can eat whatever you want when you get back. It’s the weekend, so homework or any other ‘stuff’ you have to do can wait until tomorrow or Sunday.”

I tried arguing, but I didn’t get very far. As far as my mom was concerned everything was just great between me and Mrs. Taylor; there was no reason for me not to go and anything I said to the contrary just raised suspicion.

It was a long walk over to Mrs. Taylor’s house, made even longer by the memory of what happened the evening before. I thought about just hiding out somewhere and lying about where I’d been, but Mrs. Taylor would just call asking why I hadn’t shown up and Mom would find out I lied and there would be hell to pay. And Lord knows I didn’t need that!

Mrs. Taylor was a mystery to me. I mean, I couldn't imagine what she thought of me, especially after seeing me in the buff on her back patio. How come she didn’t throw a fit or at the very least call my mother? And what about Miss Thelma? Would she be there when I showed up? Surely she would have told her employer about her encounter with “the nekkid boy.” What would Mrs. Taylor think about that???

“I really don’t wanna do this,” I mumbled as I marched to my fate.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what was going to happen when I showed up on Mrs. Taylor’s doorstep, which was a mistake. My stomach hurt, I was so scared! I knew my mom would have had a conniption if she'd caught one of my friends running around naked in our backyard. She would have probably called the police if not their parents. A rich lady like Mrs. Taylor probably wasn't any different. She probably called the police, too. But then again … why did she say all those nice things about me to my mother? Why didn’t she tattle on me? Why did she want me come back to her house?

WHY???

I know, I know, I was just an eleven year old kid at the time, but I wasn’t exactly stupid. A little naïve, perhaps, but not too dumb. But as hard as I thought, as much as I struggled with this, none of it made any sense. Not at all.

I was a nervous wreck by the time I arrived at Mrs. Taylor’s front door. I was so afraid of what might happen that it took me at least ten minutes to work up enough courage to ring the doorbell.

“I really don’t wanna be here,” I said to myself as I pressed the button.

When the door opened Mrs. Taylor greeted me with a bright smile. She looked quite beautiful, again in a chic dress and high heels. Her makeup was perfect and her hair quite stylish, just like in the movies. The top of her dress was low cut, leaving little to the imagination; I had to force myself not to look at her ample cleavage, which was just below eye level. I did a horrible job of it, but I eventually graduated to her eyes and her lips, which wasn’t too bad as they were just as gorgeous to look at.

My hostess was most disarming in her greeting. She surprised me by acting completely like there was nothing weird between us. After catching me naked in her back yard and no doubt getting a report from her housekeeper, she carried on as though she was thrilled to see me. I was both bewildered and relieved; that in itself was worth all the cleavage and red lipstick in the world! Well, for the moment, at least.

“Thank you for coming over, David. I thought you’d like your money, you know, for the weekend. I really appreciate all you did while I was gone. The plants look great and Justine seems to have really taken a liking to you. You did such a great job, I can’t thank you enough!”

I was surprised to find myself being pulled face first between those amazing breasts and being given a long, affectionate hug. As I stepped back I looked down to see that stupid fluffy white cat brushing up against my feet. I thought about how it had stared at my naked privates the day before. I felt the blood rush to my face and in between my legs; I couldn’t help but squirm uncomfortably as I contemplated my predicament.

There was a moment of awkward silence, as though my hostess was expecting me to say something. I suddenly realized it was indeed my turn to speak and so I nodded and mumbled something along the lines of “You’re welcome.”

With the small talk over, my employer presented me with an envelope. I had to look twice to make sure I understood the amount on the check. It was more than twice what I’d expected. There was also a generous cash tip, which surprised me as well.

“That’s a little something extra, just for you. I suppose your mother would put the rest in the bank. A boy’s got to have some money of his own, doesn’t he?”

My employer was quite candid in explaining her generosity. “David, I’m giving you that because I want you to keep coming over and taking care of things for me. I need a big strong man to mow my grass and weed my garden and take care of the inside plants and the fish. I can’t think of anyone better than you to do that for me. Plus, Justine is quite fond of you, which means a lot as well.”

What could I say? Flattery is flattery, right? And I mean, I couldn’t say no. That would have been impolite in my mind, I guess. Plus, my mom wouldn’t let me once she saw the check. Despite our awkward encounter the evening before I felt a lot better about the entire situation with my new friend.

I nodded my head and blushed as I thanked Mrs. Taylor for her generous gesture.

“Don’t worry about it, dear boy. You deserve it,” she said sweetly. “You deserve everything that’s coming to you.”

I started to head home when my employer invited me to stay for dinner. I politely declined, but she insisted, taking me by the hand and practically dragging me inside the house. The next thing I knew, she had my mom on the phone and it was settled. I’d stay until after supper. It was a Friday night, so it didn’t matter when I got home.

“There, that’s that.” She gave me a knowing smile. “This will be fun. After all, we have quite a lot to talk about, wouldn’t you agree?”

I just nodded my head. Despite how smoothly everything was going, I wished for the evening to done with as soon as possible.

Dinner consisted of a fancy salad, not exactly my favorite. I helped Mrs. Taylor prepare it, which was way out of my comfort zone. She showed me how to pull apart the lettuce and add the olives and tomatoes and other ingredients. I even learned how to use the olive oil and vinegar to make a dressing.

We ate in the dining room, which was kind of silly, since it was just the two of us seated at opposite ends of that huge table. I remembered running around in that same exact room like an idiot just the day before, dancing and skipping about in my bare skin. I tried not to think about that foolishness, but then I caught myself staring at my hostess’ cleavage and that just made things worse.

I got so nervous I could barely eat my salad. Thank goodness, Mrs. Taylor broke the tension with some small talk. She questioned me about everything from the chores I’d done in her house to my home life and even how I was doing in school. I answered as truthfully as I could, describing in detail my routine for watering the plants and feeding the fish and taking care of Justine. She seemed satisfied with my answers about my responsibilities. I thought for sure she’d bring up my, um, extracurricular activities, but that didn’t happen.

Not yet, at least.

After dinner I helped Mrs. Taylor with the cleaning up. Again, I ended up doing most of the work, washing dishes and putting things away while my hostess somehow found a glass of wine and a seat at the counter.

“You’re very sweet to be so helpful,” she said warmly. “You’ll make some girl a wonderful boyfriend one day.”

There was talk of dessert, but first Mrs. Taylor wanted us to continue our “little chat.” She led me by the hand to the living room and took a seat in the large wing back chair. I started to sit down, but she held tight to my hand, forcing me to stand awkwardly before her.

“Isn’t this cozy?” she said. “Just you and me and our little secrets.”

Sipping on her wine, my curious hostess continued her interrogation, plying me with all sorts of questions about my life at home, my mom and my dad, you know, the tedious, mundane questions adults ask children all the time. It felt weird, standing in front of this beautiful but strange woman while talking about my parents; I found myself swaying from left to right and back again, both uncomfortable and impatient with my situation.

“Tell me about school,” she said, taking another drink from her glass. “How many are in your class? Who’s your teacher? What’s your favorite subject? Do you have a lot of friends? Do you have a … girlfriend?”

The last question got me blushing, of course. I fudged on it, but she eventually coaxed me into mentioning Jennifer Wilson’s name, along with a few others.

“Isn’t that funny,” Mrs. Taylor said with a laugh. “I know Jennifer quite well. She and her mother have been here many times. She stopped by here this afternoon, in fact. Isn’t that exciting?”

I just nodded and acted dumb, which apparently was one of my main talents.

“She was very disappointed that you weren’t here,” my hostess said in a sing-song voice. “Perhaps next time we can get you two together. Won’t that be fun?”

My interrogator continued with the questioning, asking me if I thought Jenny was pretty and if we’d ever kissed. I started stammering more than usual and my face turned red, but she was quite charming about it, not to mention very sympathetic. She didn’t even laugh when I admitted I’d never kissed a girl, not even once.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she cooed. “Your time will come. And when it does you’ll never forget it.”

I was relieved when the question and answer session was over. Hand in hand, we returned to the kitchen to fetch dessert. It turned out to be ice cream, my favorite! Mrs. Taylor had dark chocolate – the expensive kind, of course – and I had caramel; again, a very costly brand.

“This is actually called ‘gelato’, which is very popular in Europe,” she explained. “Isn’t it delicious? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Whatever they called it, it looked and smelled amazing! There were toppings, to include several types of syrup and real whipped cream. We prepared our treats in elegant crystal bowls and my hostess produced a pair of elaborate silver spoons; we then returned to the living room to enjoy our decadent sweets.

By this time I was getting fairly comfortable around my new friend; despite my initial nervousness I couldn’t wait to dig into my dessert. Mrs. Taylor seemed to enjoy my boyish eagerness and didn’t even seem to mind when she caught me ogling her breasts. I also appreciated how she still hadn’t mentioned my being naked in her back yard. She couldn’t have forgotten it, of course. I simply figured she was just a nice lady who wanted to make me feel good about myself.

Sweeping her dress under her voluptuous bottom, Mrs. Taylor took her seat in the wing back chair. I’d just sat down on the adjacent sofa and was about to take my first taste of delicious gelato, but then she said something odd.

“David, let me show you something before you eat your dessert,” she said with a sly smile. “I think you’ll find this interesting. I know I did.”

I was more than a little confused as she directed me to set my ice cream on the coffee table and go open the doors on the antique cabinet on the other side of the room. To my surprise, it was a television, extremely large, with the biggest screen I’d ever seen. I’d been in that house for nearly two weeks, snooping and prying everywhere I could, and I never saw a television. Needless to say, I was very disappointed to know this so late in the game.

Mrs. Taylor then snapped her fingers and motioned for me to stand by her chair.

“Come here, sweetheart. I want to show you something.”

I looked longingly at the abandoned bowl of creamy goodness on the coffee table, but I did as I was told. Taking my hand in hers, my hostess prompted me to spin around and face the television. I glanced over to see her pull a sophisticated remote control from the side table.

“You like watching television, don’t you,” she said softly. “Of course you do. Well, I think you’ll find this very interesting. Very interesting, indeed.”

The television came on and almost instantly the screen flickered. It took a moment, but then there was a black and white image of an elegant living room in what appeared to be a very elegant house. Despite the monochromatic imagery, it looked to be a very familiar living room. I felt a cold chill as I suddenly recognized it as the very room I was standing in. The foyer could be seen in the upper portion of the screen.

What the heck …?

My mouth felt dry for some reason. I glanced over at Mrs. Taylor. She was watching me more than she watching the television. A coy smile spread across her lips.

"My husband had security cameras installed to protect all of my beautiful art. They're all over the house and they’re set up to record when someone enters each room. He even had some put outside. Isn’t that interesting?”

I blinked, then nodded. That was interesting, I had to admit; but it wasn’t good. Not for me. Not good at all.

“Sometimes they catch the funniest things," my hostess said with a very ladylike laugh. She gave my hand a firm squeeze and pulled me close. I shivered as her free hand slid around my waist in a patronizing, almost possessive manner. “Pay attention, dear. Like I said, you’ll find this very interesting. I know I did.”

I watched with no little dread as a boy entered the front door into the foyer. A boy about my own age. I immediately recognized the head full of blond curly hair and the superhero backpack; it was me, of course. There was no way to tell what day the recording was made, but I had a bad feeling that I was about to find out.

“I wonder who that pretty boy is,” my hostess cooed playfully.

I bit my lip as my worst dream came true. The boy on the screen put down his backpack and immediately began pulling his shirt over his head. My heart raced as I realized what was happening. I started to step away, but my employer squeezed my hand and her grip around my waist held me tight.

“Uh-uh, don’t run off, sweetheart. Let’s see what happens next! Can’t you see, somebody’s up to mischief! I hope he doesn’t get into any trooooouuu-blllllllle!”

The boy on the television had a big smile on his face as he undressed. He was so excited he was practically jumping up and down. First came his shirt, then his pants, shoes … and then his underwear and socks. Soon he was stark raving naked in the middle of the all too familiar living room. He had the stupidest grin on his dumb face; it almost made me throw up, it was so stupid.

“Now there’s something you don’t see every day!” My hostess giggled. “Isn’t he pretty?”

I remember shaking, then nodding my head. Seeing myself on television was a lot different than looking at a mirror, especially seeing my naked self, my naked butt, my naked everything, on television. Just the idea that a camera was there to capture me doing something so private, so … weird … made my stomach ache to the point of nausea. No one was supposed to know about this. No one was ever supposed to know ….

How was this happening to me? Most important, WHY was this happening to me???

Mrs. Taylor must have felt my anxiety. She pulled me close and I felt her hand slide underneath my shirt and press against my back, rubbing up and down in an affectionate, overly familiar manner.

“Who knew such a pretty boy existed beneath all those ugly clothes,” she said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “Such a pretty, pretty little boy … so lovely … so sweet … hiding right here in plain sight ….”

I felt a huge lump in my throat to hear those awful words. As I said so many times before, I hated being called pretty. Or sweet. Or anything like that. I wanted to be rough and tough like my friends at school! I wanted to be athletic and handsome and all the things I wasn’t. It wasn’t my fault I was plump and cute and had long curly hair that old ladies like to fawn over and touch. That wasn’t my fault, was it? Right? I mean … am I right?

The problem was, everything I hated about myself was staring me right in the face. I hated how I looked on the television screen; my fat bottom and pudgy belly and those stupid curls in my hair made me look much younger than most boys my age. And I don’t even want to think about that little thing I used for a penis; so small and without a trace of hair anywhere near it, my poor little wiener looked like something a first grader might have, not a big, tough sixth grader.

No wonder that both Miss Thelma and Mrs. Taylor asked if I was a girl and not a boy; the fact that I was naked when she asked made it even worse!

I stared at the television, not knowing what I was supposed to do. I didn’t dare look at my mother’s friend and I couldn’t very well run away. I mean, I suppose I could have tried to run, but my feet, my entire body was frozen in fear; besides, Mrs. Taylor slid her hand inside the waistband of my pants just below the small of my back, gripping it tightly in case I tried to escape.

The recording went on. I was sickened to see myself completely naked, prancing barefoot about the room on my hostess’ expensive Persian carpet, acting and looking like a complete fool. If it had been anybody else I would have thought the image comical. But it was me, of course, and I was absolutely horrified! I didn’t have to watch it to know what would happen next. The truth is, I didn’t want to watch. It was painful, to say the very least.

“Isn’t that funny?” Mrs. Taylor brightly chirped. “Oh, David, you are hilarious! I had no idea you could be so much fun!”

I bit my lip and prayed for lightning to strike the house and destroy the television and any trace of that treacherous recording.

No dice.

“Oh, I almost forgot to turn up the volume,” my captor said in a matter of fact voice. I made the mistake of looking at her as she picked up the remote. She gave me a little wink. “Didn’t I tell you this was going to be interesting?”

The image now showed me standing in the middle of the room with my hands behind my back. I was sickened to see that by then my penis was standing out, erect and proud. I watched with no little embarrassment as the screen showed my employer’s cat, Justine, sitting before me, her eyes locked in on my stiff member.

“What’s that, Justine?” my televised self said in a silly voice. “Oh, now that I’m naked you find me interesting? Do you like it when I take my clothes off? You do? Gosh, Justine, you’re a naughty girl!”

As if in answer Justine got up and rubbed her thick white fur against my legs and feet.

“Silly old cat,” the boy on the television said with a giggle.

My hostess clucked her tongue. “Now isn’t that the cutest thing in the whole world! You look so happy and Justine just loves watching you. I said it before and I’ll say it again, you two make the most adorable pair!”

I had absolutely no idea what I should say or do. Mrs. Taylor’s delightful reaction to the image of me onscreen put me into an awful spin; it seemed that the combination of déjà vu and having my innermost secrets exposed to my mother’s good friend had caused me to feel dizzy and disoriented.

“Let’s see what else we can find, shall we?” Mrs. Taylor gave me a wink. “I ran through some of the footage last night and started up again earlier day. There’s so many interesting things here, too many to watch in one sitting. You really know how to have good time, you know that? I thought we might enjoy at least a few highlights, just for fun.”

The happy woman hit a button and sped through the video for a few seconds, then stopped. Once again the screen showed me standing in the middle of the living room. I watched in horror as the naked child on the screen posed and primped as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Without any clothes you’re my prisoner!” he said at one point in a sinister voice. “I’m locking them away forever!!!”

“Please give them back,” he suddenly cried in a pretend-to-be-scared voice. “I don’t want to go without any clothes!”

“That’s too bad, my little fairy! They're gone and you’re never ever getting them back! Remember, you’re being watched. Make a mistake and you’ll get punished! Just you wait and see.”

I felt my face burning as the childish voice emitted more and more nonsense over the speaker. I tried to block out the words, but it was impossible. I was dying of shame, my legs wobbled and my heart beat so hard I thought I was about to have a heart attack.

I glanced over to Mrs. Taylor, which was a mistake. She was all smiles, her bright teeth contrasting against her bright red lipstick.

“You are hysterical! David, where do you come up with this stuff? Is this some sort of little pretend game? Were you playacting? You’ve got to tell me the whole story, you know!”

The video went on for a few more minutes. The images were as ridiculous as they were shocking; I was sickened to see how foolish I looked, dancing about the living room, rolling on the floor and finally standing on the expensive coffee table. The very table where my bowl of ice cream was melting away into a pool of ugly goo.

The screen suddenly froze. I stared in horror to see it had been paused to show the video image of me posed coyly on top of Mrs. Taylor’s coffee table; with my hands behind my back, my penis sticking out and a silly grin on my face, I looked to be quite happy, and perhaps even a bit proud of myself.

That was not at all what I felt as I faced my mother’s friend. Not at all.

“Well, what do you think so far, David?” Mrs. Taylor asked. “Isn’t this fun? Isn’t it interesting?” My hostess’ voice was playful and excited, as if she was a young girl rather than a full grown woman. “I thought it was so much fun to watch, I just had to share it with you.”

By this time my face was burning hot with shame and my eyes were blurred and burning with tears. I looked from the television with that awful, horrible image of my naked self to my smiling hostess. She couldn’t have been more pleased as she grinned at me.

“Aw, you’re embarrassed. There’s no need, sweetheart. You’re so funny when you think nobody’s watching. And you’re just adorable in your birthday suit. You’re absolutely gorgeous! No matter how many times I’ve seen this, I just love it to death!”

I tried to think of something to say, but the best I could come up with was bursting out in tears and begging for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Taylor! I’m sooooo sorry!” I squeaked. “I didn’t mean to do it … I promise … I didn’t mean to do it. It was just … I … I … I don’t know why I did iiiiiiiiiiit ….”

My hostess let me cry. She didn’t condemn me or accuse me of anything; she didn’t raise her voice or threaten to call my mother. She didn’t do any of the horrible things I thought she could have – and justifiably – done. All she did was sit there in her antique wing back chair and hold my hand and let me sob my little heart out.

"I am soooo sorryyyyyy, I promise! Please don't show this to my parents! Please don't show it to anybody! Please, oh pleeeease ... I'll do anything! Just don't let anybody seeee iiiiiiit ...."

It took me a few minutes to regain my composure. I wiped my tears with my hands and I took a few deep breaths to catch my wind. Only then did I look up to see Mrs. Taylor’s smiling face.

“Are you done?” she asked. I nodded. “Are you sure?” I nodded again. “Good.”

My mother’s friend gave me a strange smile. I felt her hand against my back, pressing between my shoulders and forcing me uncomfortably close to her face. I could smell the wine on her breath and just as her lips touched my ear, her perfume pierced my nostrils with its rousing aroma.

“Let’s take a break from watching television and do something else,” she said in a coy, sing song voice. “Oh, don’t start crying again! You’re not in trouble, not yet, anyway. Nobody’s mad at you and nothing bad is going to happen to you. Instead, we going to have a little fun, all right? You like having fun, don’t you? Hmm?”

I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and nodded. “I guess so.”

“Good. Now, we’re going to play a game. It’s really easy and lots of fun. You’ll love it, I’m sure. It’s a game you’ve already played before. In this very house, as a matter of fact.”

Not knowing what the heck she was talking about, I nodded my head. I didn’t know what else I could do.

My hostess pushed me just far enough that she could look me in the eyes. I tried to step away even further, but she put her hands on either side of my face and held me tight. I suddenly felt like a mouse in a trap.

“The game is very simple. All you have to do is show me what you did during your little visits while I was gone. That’s all you have to do. Just show me what you did. That’s it, plain and simple.”

I blinked. That didn’t sound like any game I’d played before. I frowned for a moment, then shrugged my shoulders.

“Sooooo … you want me to …?”

The pretty woman laughed. “Let’s try this again. All you have to do is go through your daily routine for me. Just walk me through your day, from the moment you entered this house, show me what you did when you came in every afternoon after school. Just show me where you went, what you did, how you did it. It’s not that complicated. Do that and you win the game!”

I raised my eyebrows. “I win the game?”

Mrs. Taylor smiled. “Well, you win a bowl of delicious gelato.”

I thought for a moment. “Um, what if ….”

“So, what if you decide not to play, you may ask,” my hostess interrupted. “Hmm ... well, let me think. How about this: if you don’t want to play with me, how about we just call your mother and invite her to come over and play. Of course, she’ll have to watch the video to see what we’re doing. But that’s all right. I think she’ll find it interesting, don’t you? And maybe a little fun, too?”

I felt a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I also felt the urge to pee.

I sighed, then I nodded. “Okay, sure. I can play that game, I guess.”

Mrs. Taylor smiled. “Good. I’ll be keeping score by the way. The video shows everything you did while I was gone, you know. And I do mean everything. After you play I’ll be reviewing the footage and double checking to ensure you showed me everything you did. So be sure to include EVERYTHING. Don’t leave anything out. Do you understand what I just said?

I nodded. I wanted to throw up, but I just nodded my head instead. I could throw up later.

My captor gave me a little smile. She then released my face and directed me toward the foyer. I walked over and took my position by the front door; I then turned around and just stood there for a moment, not quite sure what to do. Mrs. Taylor remained in her seat, looking like she was about to watch a fashion show with her perfect posture and glass of wine.

“You may proceed,” she prompted, her eyes wide with anticipation.

I cleared my voice. “Okay, well, the first thing was I came into the house and I started on my chores ….”

I started to head for the kitchen, but I was stopped.

“What did you do before that?” Mrs. Taylor raised a single, though be it very skeptical eyebrow. “Before you started on your chores, I mean.”

I frowned. “I dunno. I just came in and started on my chores. I watered the plants and I ….”

“I know that, darling, but what did you do after you came in the front door? Think about it. What did you do between coming through the door and starting on your chores?”

I blinked. And in the time that I blinked, I realized what she was getting at.

Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh double damned CRAP!!!!

“I … um … well ….”

“Say it. Say it out loud.”

“I … I … took … off … my … clothes …?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

There was that feeling of nausea again.

“I … I’m … telling?”

Mrs. Taylor laughed. It was a genuine, pretty laugh, one that I might have enjoyed if I wasn’t so scared at that moment.

“All right, here’s the deal. We both saw what is on the video. We both know what you did. I want to know what else you did. And I want you to show me and tell me. All you have to do is exactly what you did when you were alone in my house and you win the game. Now do you understand?”

I nodded.

“I’m warning you, there is a lot more to this video than what you just saw. There is more than one camera in this house. And don’t forget the ones outside, too. After we play the game I’m going to go over the rest of the footage and score you. If you leave anything out – anything! – and if I think you’ve cheated or lied to me about what you did, about anything you did, I’m showing this video to your parents. For some reason I don’t think they’ll be quite as understanding about your little secret as I am.”

She paused to take a sip of wine. “Do I make myself clear?”

I nodded my head. I wanted to go pee, but I too afraid to mention that.

“Yes, ma’am,” was all I said.

“And for pity’s sake, stop calling me ‘ma’am.’” She smiled for a moment. “Call me Mrs. Taylor. That’ll work just fine.”

“Yes, ma’- … yes, Mrs. Taylor.”

My hostess insisted that I start again from the beginning. For more authenticity she directed me to step outside the house and come through the door, just like I’d done in her absence. I did as I was told. Faced with the possibility of my mother finding out what a pervert I was, I had little choice in the matter.

I remember standing on the front steps to Mrs. Taylor’s home waiting to start the game and wondering what would happen if I took off and ran home. All I had to do was run run run as fast as I could, get to my house, run upstairs and lock the door and jump in bed and hide under the covers. She wouldn’t really rat me out to my parents, would she? I mean, she wouldn’t really show that stupid video to my mom and my dad … right? Not really … I mean, who does things like that …?

I didn’t run away, of course. I couldn’t if I wanted. First off, I had to pee really bad, so bad I would have peed myself if I tried running anywhere. Then … well, then there was the fact that I was a coward. I wasn’t brave enough to run away. I just knew … I was convinced … that Mrs. Taylor would do exactly as she threatened. Or promised … she hadn’t really threatened me, had she? Whatever. It didn’t matter. I was too scared to run, and I was too scared to do anything that might make her mad.

I was screwed.

It took me a moment or two to work up the courage to go through that door. But I did it. And when I finally did I saw that Mrs. Taylor had gotten to her feet and was watching me with great intensity. She held in her hand that ever present glass of red wine. She looked as though she was expecting to be entertained.

“So you didn’t run off, hmm?” She smiled. “I thought you might, but you proved me wrong. Isn’t that interesting. Go on, do as I told you. Do everything, just like we saw on the television.”

It took me a couple of seconds to work up the nerve, not quite as long as it did to come back inside. I knew that I was going to have to take off my clothes in front of this extremely pretty and very intimidating woman; the fact that she was my mother's friend made things even weirder. I just didn’t know how I was going to do it. Complicating matters, I really needed to pee, but I was too embarrassed to tell her that. I took a deep breath and tried to put my fear out of my mind.

Considering I was just eleven years old at the time, I probably could have just laid down and thrown a tantrum. I’m sure most kids would have, but I didn’t. Not little old masochistic me. Instead, I did as I was told, as I was expected. I started by slowly kicking off my sneakers. That was easy … easy in comparison to everything thing else I would have to do, I mean. Next, I slowly but surely took off my shirt and folded it up neatly before setting it on the floor.

So far, so good.

I reached down to loosen my belt; while doing so I made the mistake of looking up and seeing Mrs. Taylor smiling at me. All of a sudden the reality that I was going to be naked in front of my mother’s friend hit me hard, so hard I started trembling all over in a panic. With shaking hands I unfastened my jeans, unzipped them – that took a long time, believe me, with the eyes of my hostess watching me – and slid them down my legs. I stepped out of them, folded them up and laid them on the floor with my shirt. Then came my socks. And then there was nothing left but my underwear.

I looked up at my employer, feeling quite foolish with my thumbs hooked in the waistband of my whitey tighties. I mean, who doesn’t look foolish standing in front of somebody else in their whitey tighties?

I cleared my throat. “Do I really …?

“Would you prefer we call your mother?” Mrs. Taylor asked with a smile. “We can sit down here, the three of us, and we can all watch the television and you can explain to her what you did and why you did it. We can even call your father and have him join us if you like. Do you think that would be fun? Hmmm?”

I shook my head.

“Then just do as I say and everything will be all right. I’m not asking you to do anything you already haven’t, remember? I’m just here to observe.”

I nodded my head. My face was hot with shame, but I didn’t let that stop me from doing what I had to do. I’d rather eat worms than let my dad know what kind of pervert he had for a son. And this was about as bad as eating worms. Okay, maybe a little worse.

I tugged at the waistband of my whitey tighties and pulled them down far enough to uncover my bottom. Then my penis popped loose. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth but, amazingly, the world did not come to an end. I said a little prayer and lowered my underpants a bit further. They were down to my knees when the phone rang. I paused as Mrs. Taylor took the call. I started to pull them up, but she motioned for me to stop.

“Don’t you dare move!” she ordered. Her hand was over the mouthpiece, concealing her words from whoever was on the other end of the line. “Just stay as you are until I’m off the phone. Don’t you dare move one inch if you know what’s good for you!”

I didn’t want to make my captor mad, so I did as I was told. I let go of my whitey tighties and stood upright. That was really awkward; it felt quite awful, standing with my underpants down below my thighs, leaving my bare penis and balls – and my stupid fat butt! – exposed to my hostess’ view. It was almost as bad as when Miss Thelma’s daughters caught me hiding in the garden the day before.

Needless to say, Mrs. Taylor was quite amused to see my predicament, and her delight carried over to her conversation; her eyes sparkled and her voice lilted and sang as if she was in a Hollywood musical. Baffled and dizzy with emotion, I tried not to listen as she laughed and giggled and chatted with whoever it was that was that left me in such a humiliating situation. I didn’t care who she was talking to as long as she got off the phone and we could get this horrible game over with!

Of course, the call went on and on forever, which was just plain misery as far as I was concerned. The cool, subtle breeze from the air conditioning caused my nipples to harden and gooseflesh to rise all over my exposed skin, from my shoulders and arms to my stupid fat butt. And all along my hostess didn’t take her eyes off me. For at least ten minutes, maybe longer, I was the object of her gaze; she would alternate between looking me in the eyes and studying my naked body, a look of satisfaction spread across her face. It was most disconcerting, being looked at with such intensity. I could almost feel her touch as she scrutinized me from head to toe.

At one point I suddenly felt something funny happening to my body. Looking down at myself, I saw part of the problem; my penis was slowly rising from between my thighs, sticking out for my hostess to see.

“Aw, geez, not now,” I whispered to myself. “If I could just go pee this wouldn’t have happened!”

I wanted to cover myself, but soon as I made a move Mrs. Taylor snapped her fingers and shook her head.

“Don’t even think about it,” she whispered with conviction.

So I just stood there, in full view of the living room, my underpants down about my knees with my wiener sticking out and my mother’s friend watching me like a hawk. Adding to my embarrassment, Justine the cat showed up. She’d been lingering about earlier, but as soon as I dropped my pants her curiosity was roused. And now that I had an erection she sat directly in front of me, her full attention locked in on the tip of my penis. I tried shooing her away, but she refused to budge. I just hoped she didn’t try jumping up and claiming my bits as her own.

That stupid phone call went on forever. While I stood there and waited for Mrs. Taylor to hang up, I thought about my stupid fantasies. This was scary close to being one of them. I mean, I was practically naked and under the control of a beautiful and powerful woman. Only this wasn’t as much fun as I’d imagined when I was playing my little pretend games in the privacy of my bedroom. It was horrible! It was demeaning and scary and just plain embarrassing! This had to be the worst thing that ever happened to me!

My mind ran rampant with all sorts of fears and worries about what might happen next. Was Mrs. Taylor really going to make me take off all my clothes? Was she really going to make me show her what I did while she was gone, or was she just kidding? Oh my gosh! What if she told whoever it was on the phone about me? What if she invited them to come over and see what we were doing? She wouldn’t let them see me, would she? She wasn’t going to parade me around in front of a bunch of women and girls, was she?

Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh ….

I took a deep breath and tried to regain control of my imagination. Of course none of that was going to happen. Mrs. Taylor was just trying to scare me, that was all. In a minute she’d get off the phone and the game would be cancelled and I could get out of that horrible, awful house!

That was what I hoped. But it’s not quite what happened.

“Here, David, it’s your mother,” Mrs. Taylor suddenly said. “Come on, take the phone, silly boy. It won’t bite.”

My stomach suddenly fell and my heart stopped beating.

“My … mom …?”

Holy crap!

To make matters even more humiliating, I had to practically waddle over with my underwear down about my thighs in order to take the phone. Justine refused to move, forcing me to hobble foolishly around her. My hostess smiled at my awkwardness and she gave me a wink as I put the phone to my face; she then bent down and pressed her face close to mine – ear to ear, cheek to cheek – in order to listen in on the call.

It was my mother all right. Great.

“Soooo, I hear you’re having a nice time,” Mom said over the phone. “Mrs. Taylor tells me you two watched a movie together and now you’re playing some sort of game. Are you having fun?”

“I guess so,” I mumbled.

“Good! Just don’t make a pest of yourself. Oh, I also understand you were a big help fixing dinner. We’ll have to talk about that when you get home. I can’t get you or your father to do anything in our kitchen ….”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, my voice cracking with nervousness.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as I felt Mrs. Taylor’s hand suddenly press against my bare back; I tried to squirm away, but she held me tightly, pushing her face flat against mine so she could hear a little bit better.

“Keep talking,” she whispered. “I’m just being nosey.”

While my mom yammered on about whatever it is that moms talk about, I could feel my hostess’ hand travel down my back, slide over my bare bottom and linger just behind my thighs. For an instant I thought she was going to either tickle me or give me a hard pinch, just like Tessie had done the day before. I bit my lip, bracing myself for the inevitable; the last thing I needed was my mom asking why I was acting weird on the phone while she was talking.

What happened next caught me completely off guard; my whitey tighties were suddenly pulled past my knees down to my ankles! The next thing I knew they were being tugged over my feet, leaving me completely naked!

I shouldn’t have been surprised. I mean, I knew they were coming off eventually, but I thought I was the one who would do it. Having Mrs. Taylor pull my underpants off was completely unexpected. I don’t know why I got so mad, but I did. I got so mad, in fact, that I almost cried.

“David? David? DAVID ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME????”

I recovered from my frustration long enough to answer.

“Sorry, Mom. I was … I got distracted.”

I could hear my mother’s frustration over the phone line. “Why am I not surprised. All right, let me try this again. Your father is working late again, so since you’re with Mrs. Taylor I’m going out. I’ll be at Arlene’s playing cards so I might not be here when you get home. Do you understand me?”

While my mother talked Mrs. Taylor held my whitey tighties on one finger in front of my face. Her expression was one of jubilation as she twirled them about like a flag of victory.

“I thought I’d give you a hand while you talked to your mommy,” she said in girlish, teasing whisper

I so wanted to make a scene, but that would have been hard to explain to my mom. Can you imagine me complaining, “It’s not my fault, Mom! Mean ol’ Mrs. Taylor took away my underpants when I wasn’t looking! Make her give them back!” No, that wouldn’t have been such a good idea. Instead, I tried to act as though everything was fine and dandy. Thank goodness I remembered what my mom was talking about!

“Yes, ma’am. Dad’s working late, you’ll be at Arlene’s. Got it.”

“That’s better.” My mother’s voice suddenly got all warm and gooey. “I love you, sweetie pie, and I’m proud of you. Be a good boy and do everything Mrs. Taylor says, all right?”

I was in shock as I handed the phone back to my captor. I couldn’t believe that I just had a conversation with my mom while I was naked! And in front of one of her lady friends, yet! The irony of my mother telling me to do everything Mrs. Taylor said didn’t escape me. Nor did it escape my hostess’ attention, either.

“Now it’s official,” the pretty woman said brightly as she hung up the phone. “You have to do whatever I say or I get to tell your mother what a naughty boy you are. Isn’t that funny!”

I watched with uncertainty as Mrs. Taylor folded my underpants and set them on the arm of her chair. She then picked up the pile of clothing at my feet – along with my shoes – and put them there as well. I stood for a moment, not quite sure what to do next.

“You really are quite pretty for a boy,” my hostess said after returning to her seat. Her eyes gleamed with delight. “Almost as pretty enough to be a work of art.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know how to react to that statement.

“You know, David, where I come from people say ‘thank you’ when they get compliments. Can you do that? Hmm? Can you?”

Not knowing what else to so, I just grimaced and said, “Yes, Mrs. Taylor. Thank you, Mrs. Taylor.”

My captor smiled. “You’re welcome, pretty boy.”

For the next several minutes neither of us said a word. I stood awkwardly, my arms crossed against my chest, my penis still sticking out, waiting for something to happen. I felt just awful about my erection, but there was nothing I could do to make it go away; I really had to pee but I wasn’t going to say that out loud. Mrs. Taylor just looked at me and sipped her wine. I fidgeted for an instant, but a look of disapproval prompted me to stand perfectly still. After a few more minutes she finished her glass and nodded.

“All right, pretty boy … let’s get back to our little game. Show me what you did next. Tell me about that little act you put on, you know, where you tossed your clothes around and were talking to yourself.”

I didn’t tell her everything, just enough to let her know that I was just pretending. I thought I would have a hard time explaining to Mrs. Taylor why I’d thrown my clothes up in the air in the video and said all that stupid stuff about getting my clothes taken away, but she got it right away.

“So, you were playacting, right? With your imaginary friends? Of course you were, you’re just a child. A very creative child at that. How interesting! Tell me more! Who do you imagine you’re playing with? Who was the one bullying you? Was it a boy or a girl? Or maybe a man or a woman?”

“A girl … I think.” I surprised myself as I answered the question. “Sometimes a woman. I … I just thought … you know, that it would be, I dunno, kinda funny. And fun, too, I guess.”

“I see. So it was fun, hmm?” Mrs. Taylor’s face suddenly lit up. “I’ve got a great idea! How about I play, too? We can do it for real! You can be you and I’ll be the naughty imaginary girl who hides your clothes! How about that? If it was fun doing it alone, just think about how much fun it will be doing it with someone else for real!”

Before I could react my elegant hostess suddenly got up from her chair, sweeping up my clothes and my shoes in the process and tucking them under her arm.

“Haha! I’ve got you now, my little fairy!” Mrs. Taylor said in a most menacing voice. She reached down and caressed my cheek with the grace of an actress in full diva mode. “Without any clothes you’re my prisoner! I’m locking them away forever and you’ll never ever get away from me!!!”

I stood for a moment, not quite sure what to do. All of this sudden drama seemed so out of character for a woman her age, but I wasn’t going to say anything. It wasn’t like she was going to listen to me anyway.

“Come on, David,” she whispered playfully. “It’s your turn. Now you’re supposed to say something. You know, beg to get your clothes back. Come on, do it. It’ll be fun!”

I felt like dying. Did she really expect me to go through with this nonsense?

“Come on, pretty boy. Do it. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

I sighed. What else was I going to do? Yeah, I’d feel dumb playing this stupid game, but what option did I have?

“Please give them back,” I said shyly. “I don’t want to go without any clothes.”

My captor let out a dramatic, theatrical laugh. “That’s too bad, my little fairy! They're gone and you’re never ever getting them back! You’re my prisoner now, forever and ever! Remember, you’re being watched wherever you go, whatever you do. Make a mistake and you’ll get punished! Just you wait and see.”

My whole body trembled at her words. They sounded so authentic, so real … I couldn’t tell if she was serious or just playing along for the fun of it.

“Well, aren’t you going to say something? Come on, David, now’s your chance! Have fun with it!”

I nodded. It felt so weird, standing naked before my mother’s friend, playing this warped little game of pretend.

“Please, don’t take my clothes away,” I croaked. “I don’t want to be … be ….”

“Naked,” prompted my hostess. “You can say ‘naked’ in front of me. It’s just for fun, remember?”

I nodded.

Mrs. Taylor then went back into character, clutching the bundle of clothes under her arm, her eyes wide with delight and her voice sounding absolutely evil.

“You’re never getting them back now, my little fairy! You are mine forever and forever you will be trapped in my power! Do you hear me? Trapped foreverrrrrrr …!!!”

My playmate’s face glowed with mischief as she playfully backed out of the room. “Now, you just wait here and I’ll go hide them. Don’t worry, I’ll put them somewhere you’ll never be able to find. That’ll make everything even more exciting. Isn’t this fun?”

She disappeared before I could say a word. I just stood there, again, not quite sure what I was supposed to do.

“What the heck is going on,” I remember whispering to myself.

After “hiding” my clothes somewhere in the house – I never did figure out her hiding places – my hostess returned. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, just like a little girl who’d done something naughty.

“Mrs. Taylor, can I please have my stuff back now?” I tugged nervously at my curly hair and tried to be casual with my words. “I mean, I probably shouldn’t be naked in front of you like this, you know.”

“Aw, is the pretty little boy shy?” The pretty woman chuckled. I gave my hair another tug and nodded. “Well, don’t worry about it. I’m having a great time. This is actually as much fun for me as it is for you.”

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, obviously. I pressed a bare toe into the hardwood floor and tried not to get upset. “Yeah, but ….”

“Shhhh, not another word. Your things are safe and sound. You’ll never find them, but you’ll get them back … eventually.

I frowned. “Can I at least go to the bathroom? I really need to pee … er, I mean, I need to go number one.”

Mrs. Taylor laughed. “You can say pee. And no, you may not go. Not just yet. You’ll just have to hold it.”

I nodded. I could hold it. I wasn’t sure how long, I was too intimidated to argue with her at that point.

It felt weird and scary, standing before my mother’s friend in my bare skin in that huge old house. I really wanted to go home, but she insisted that I continue with the game. I didn’t have much choice, considering she’d just hidden my clothes, right. And so I took a deep breath and led her to the kitchen where I showed off my watering routine.

“Go on,” Mrs. Taylor said. She took a sip of wine and waited.

“Do you want me to actually do it,” I asked. “I mean, should I water all of the plants?”

“Well, they’re not going to water themselves,” my hostess said with more than a bit of sarcasm. “So go on, don’t mind me. Show me what you did. I’m just here for the entertainment.”

I filled the watering can at the sink and headed for the hallway. Mrs. Taylor followed me through the house, watching me carefully every step of the way and prompting me to talk the entire time. That was hard, talking about what I did while being naked and all. It just didn’t feel right, doing something so … normal … while in my birthday suit. We went through the routine once, which only took care of the plants in the front parlor, but that was enough for my hostess. I explained how I ran through the halls and up and down the stairs repeatedly, refilling that silly little can in the kitchen repeatedly. She laughed. She also told me she was impressed.

“I like that you were having fun and still doing your chores,” she said. “That’s very creative! You’re almost as smart as you are cute! And you showed you have integrity. That’s very important.”

I frowned. “In- … integrity …?”

She smiled. “It means you do what you say you’ll do, even when people aren’t looking. That’s a very good thing, don’t you think? To do as you’re told? To be obedient?”

I nodded. “Yes ma- … I mean, yes Mrs. Taylor.”

My hostess reached out and patted me on the head like I was a small child. “See, I always knew you were a nice little boy,” she said with a satisfied smile.

I spent the next few minutes finishing up watering the plants while Mrs. Taylor refilled her wine glass. As usual, it took me several trips, but I hurried as fast as I could. I felt like I was being timed, but there was nothing mentioned about me being too slow, or too fast, for that matter. The only thing that bothered me was seeing my hostess hang up the phone as I finished my final round.

“Was that my mom?” I asked, half hopeful, half frightened to death.

Mrs. Taylor smiled. “Nooooo, it was not your mommy. Don’t be so nosey. That’s going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

Too late, I thought to myself.

I’d lost some of my nervousness by the time it came to feeding Justine. Oh, I was still embarrassed to be naked in front of this strange woman, but my hands weren’t shaking like they were before. Mrs. Taylor seemed more curious than ever, however, asking me an endless amount of questions about what I did and why I did it.

“This explains why Justine is so taken with you,” she said. “If there’s one thing that kitty doesn’t like, it’s missing a meal. You feed her and you’ve got a friend for life, even if you’re in your birthday suit!” She nodded toward my little erection. “Or in this case, especially if you’re in your birthday suit.”

At last it was time to go outside and feed the fish. While daylight was fading, I was nervous about going to the garden again without any clothes on; the last time I did it things didn’t turn out so well for me. I got the measuring cup of food as I’d done time and again during the past week or so and I went to the French doors.

Mrs. Taylor laughed. “So you actually went outside … in my garden … in your birthday suit? Really?”

I nodded my head.

She laughed again. “You must really like being naked. Weren’t you scared? Not just a little bit?”

I nodded again. “I was really scared. It was the scariest thing I ever did.”

“Then why did you do it?”

I shrugged. “I dunno.” I tried to think of something to say that would make sense. “Um, well, it was scary, but it was fun, too. Kinda like riding a roller coaster, I guess.”

Mrs. Taylor raised an eyebrow. “Mmmm … so you did it because it was scary … and it was fun. Is that right?”

I nodded. “Yes ma’- … yes, Mrs. Taylor.”

“And what about when Miss Thelma and the girls caught you. Was that fun? Or was it scary?”

I almost puked when she asked that question. It caught me off guard and I wasn’t prepared to answer it. I felt faint, almost sick, but somehow I managed to keep my composure. I thought for moment or so, then decided it was best to just tell the truth.

“It was really awful,” I mumbled. “Those girls were so mean to me.”

“I imagine they were.” My captor smiled. “Poor little David. The mean old girls caught him sneaking around the garden in his birthday suit and made fun of him.”

“It wasn’t just that,” I fussed. “They picked on me, too. Both of them! Tessie kept spanking me and Niecy pinched me. It wasn’t any fun at all!”

Mrs. Taylor chuckled. “How old are you?”

I looked down at my naked body and sighed. “Eleven.”

“And when is your birthday?”

I sighed again. “I’ll … I’ll be twelve next week.”

My hostess touched my chin, forcing me to look her in the eye. “And how old were those little girls? Let’s see … Niecy’s in first grade and Tessie in the fifth. What grade are you in?”

I rolled my eyes. “I … I’m in … sixth grade.”

“Sixth grade, hm? Isn’t that interesting. Poor little David. Poor little thing … it must be awful to be bullied by such mean old girls. Those first graders can really be a handful.”

I was so mad, tears burned my eyes. I didn’t want to cry, but I couldn’t help myself.

Mrs. Taylor raised an eyebrow when she saw how upset I was. “So, let’s get this straight. You apparently like being scared … and embarrassed … and all of the things that come with that. Even if it means being bullied by a pair of girls smaller and weaker than you?”

I wiped my eyes and nodded. Then I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I guess so.”

“Oh, there’s no maybe about it, my little fairy. And there’s no guessing, either.” My mother’s friend reached down and ran her fingers through my hair. “You were scared, but you liked it. You more than liked it. You loved it. You know how I know?”

I frowned. Then I saw Mrs. Taylor’s eyes drop down to look between my legs. I followed suit and saw my erection standing up as high as it had ever stood up in its pitiful little life. I looked back up at my captor and cringed to see the triumphant, leering expression on her otherwise beautiful face.

“Now isn’t that interesting,” she cooed. “You’re a strange little boy, David Cartwright. Very peculiar, but just as fascinating. I wonder what else is going on in that pretty little head of yours ….”

To be continued ….

(End of File)