Be Careful What You Ask For 11

By David

The author prefers not to display any email address. Please direct any feedback to puericil@hotmail.com and it will be forwarded

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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 Eleven – An Unwanted Guest

Okay, so my morning so far had gone pretty badly, about as bad as it gets. That was pretty obvious. Between having to spend the day without any clothes, being teased and mocked by my mom, my aunt and my mom’s stupid friend, and on top of all that, getting my butt beat for no good reason – at least no good reason I could think of – I would venture to say that this was the worst Saturday in my entire life.

Well, at least so far.

Go ahead and laugh. Everyone else did. I mean, why not? There I was, eleven years old, curly headed and fresh-faced and as naked as the day as I was born, standing in the middle of the kitchen and wondering how in the heck did I get into this mess in the first place!

“How did this all of this happen?” I said aloud to myself. “I can’t believe all those things I wish for … that I dreamed about … are coming true. It’s … it’s almost like a dream.”

But it wasn’t a dream. Not in the least. My silly, pre-pubescent imagination, obsessed with going naked and having crazy adventures based on images I’d seen in my dad’s girly magazines, had led me down the road to disaster. The things I’d thought I wanted had proven to be a horrible, just plain awful series of mistakes. I discovered way too late that in reality was there was nowhere for me to run to when things didn’t go my way; or perhaps better put, there was no respite, no escape back to reality … no reset button where you could go back to before you started. When you fantasize about something, it’s always temporary and you have the knowledge that whenever you want you can always retreat to safety, away from the danger and risk. Most important, you go back to that safe place in time where none of those things ever happened; nobody knew what your naughty secrets were and nobody ever saw you naked or doing those embarrassing things you thought might be exciting.

But my fantasy was now my reality. I couldn’t just call a time out or wake up and say it was over. I was going to have to live with the consequences of my sins and face them every day for the rest of my life; just like I was going to have to live with an aching butt the remainder of the day. Likewise, my mom and my aunt knew my stupid secrets and they were going to know about them all from here on out.

Complicating matters even further, Mrs. Taylor – to my everlasting regret – possessed physical evidence of my weirdness and had expressed a most definite willingness to use it against me; she knew very well I’d do anything to keep my mom from seeing that recording of me acting stupid, which left my entire future at risk.

Yep, I was pretty much doomed.

My head spun as I tried to make some sense of it all. What had begun as a simple little game based on some silly pre-adolescent boy fantasies had gotten completely out of hand and now I was suffering the consequences. No matter how much I wanted to open my eyes and say “Whew! That was fun, but I’m glad it’s over,” I couldn’t do it. I was trapped in a world of my own design and now I was going to have to live out the scenario I’d created … and play my role … no matter how much I hated what I’d become.

I know, I know, this is pretty heady stuff for an eleven year old. The truth is, most of this thinking came afterward, years later, while looking back from the safe haven of retrospection. But at the time this all happened I was kinda sorta aware of the complexities of my predicament … and while I might have had a little trouble processing them in my primitive grade school mind, I gave my situation serious thought and I did my best to deal with the cards I’d been dealt; and, not surprisingly, I didn’t do that very well at all.

Okay, now that we have that all cleared up, back to what happened next ….

Prompted by my mother’s voice coming through the kitchen window – “David! You’d best hurry up if you don’t want my hairbrush on your bare bottom again!” – I shook my head, wiped my tears and got busy with the dishes. I had a lot to do … and a lot to think about … and I had very little time to do it.

After finishing up I got out a clean dishcloth and I ran it under the faucet and the washed my face and ears and neck and anything else I could reach. The warm water felt good and I almost enjoyed the cooling sensation as it evaporated from my bare skin; it felt especially good on my poor red bottom! Adding to my pleasure was the fact that I was alone and there wasn’t anybody in the kitchen to tease me or boss me around or otherwise give me grief.

Funny, how a little kid’s mind works.

“David Allen Cartwright!” My mom’s voice was somewhere between irritated and angry. “I told you to hurry up! I’m giving you sixty seconds to get out here! And you’d best have your chores done if you don’t want another paddling! Sixty … fifty-nine … fifty-eight … fifty-seven ….”

After running the dirty rag down to the laundry room I rejoined my mom and our guests under the old oak tree before my mom stopped the count. I didn’t particularly want to go back outside, but I knew better than to disobey my mother. Ever since seeing me naked the night before she’d been acting pretty strange; there was no point in giving her an excuse to do something really weird.

As I approached the picnic table I was unpleasantly surprised to see that we had yet another visitor, Old Lady Mullins from next door. With a beaming smile on her face and a light in her eyes, she had made herself at home, taking my seat next to Mrs. Taylor and leaving me to stand uncomfortably before the group, exposed, confused and wishing I was a million miles away.

“It’s about time you showed up. We’ve got company.” Mom smiled. “Where are your manners? Say something to Mrs. Mullins.”

I did my best to not roll my eyes. “Yes ma’am. Good morning, Mrs. Mullins,” I said in as nonchalant and please-don’t-pay-any-attention-to-me-being-naked a voice as I could muster.

The plump woman giggled. “Good morning, David dear. It’s nice to … SEE … you again so soon, though I didn’t expect to SEE … SO MUCH … of you. I hope you don’t’ mind me dropping by, but I saw you were having a little party and I could BARE-ly stay away!”

The four women all chuckled and nodded at Mrs. Mullins’ silly jokes. I didn’t see any humor in my situation at the time, though looking back it is kinda sorta funny. Okay, more than kinda sorta. It’s really funny now. I just didn’t think so at the time.

My mother snapped her fingers at me as she would a dog; apparently my mind was elsewhere and she’d been asking me questions.

“David! Look at me when I’m talking to you! Did you get your chores done? Hmm? I assume you got all the dishes washed and put away.”

“Yes, Mom,” I whispered shyly.

“And you wiped up the countertop and cleaned the sink?”

I nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

“What about the stove?”

I frowned. “Um, no ma’am. I didn’t … um, think of that. I … I’m s-sorry.”

My mother nodded. “Well, I’ll be checking up on it when I get back to the house. You better hope it’s not a mess or you’ll be in trouble, big time, little mister. No, don’t even try to slip away and right that wrong. You can just join us for a little while, all right? It’s not like you have anything else to do … or any place to go, hmm?”

I shrugged, then nodded. I looked around the table and saw that there was nowhere for me to sit. Mrs. Mullins had taken my seat and she made no move to give it up. It was just as well; I couldn’t have sat down anyway, my butt still hurt too much from the spanking I got from my mom. I felt awkward as I tried to figure out what to do; I ended up just standing there before my audience, shifting from side to side and wondering what was going to happen next.

I started to put my hands over my privates, but thought better of it; instead, I grasped them behind my back and swayed from left to right and back again as four sets of eyes beamed at me. This was about as uncomfortable as it could get … well, short of getting my bare bottom whacked with a hairbrush, I guess.

“So, Mabel, what do you think of our pretty little boy in his pretty little birthday suit?” Aunt Margaret teased. “David’s been our little maid servant this morning. He’s been serving up breakfast and cleaning the table and doing dishes. He’s such a good boy … he’ll make some girl a fine wife one day, don’t you think?”

I hated whenever my aunt said stuff that. It wasn’t the first time she’d mocked me that morning and it would most definitely not be the last. But being teased while standing naked in front of so many women just made everything all that much more unbearable.

“Well, this is certainly a nice surprise, that’s for certain.” Mrs. Mullins chuckled as her eyes went up and down my body. “It’s not often I get to see such a cute little boy all bare naked and looking so adorable. I saw him earlier this morning but I didn’t know he was naked. If I had I would have most definitely come over to keep him company!”

My mom snapped her fingers at me and gave me a hard stare. “David, you didn’t tell me you saw Mrs. Mullins this morning. What’s up with that?”

I shrugged my bare shoulders and sighed. “I didn’t think about it, I guess.”

“Well, you’d best think about it in the future,” Mom warned me. “Next time someone comes by, be a good host and invite them to join us and then let me know. I don’t care who it is, there’s no reason to be rude! Do you understand me?”

I nodded my head, but my heart wasn’t in it. I had visions of my mother’s friends from church ringing the doorbell and barging their way into the house while I was still in my birthday suit. I felt ill at the thought of facing a bunch of old ladies with my bare butt showing and my wiener hanging out!

“Oh, he didn’t mean to be rude, did you, sweetie pie?” cooed my nosey neighbor. “I’m just glad I got to see you up close right now! Just look at those lovely roses in that curly blond hair! How pretty you are! You’re as pretty as an angel, if you ask me!”

“I was thinking more of a cupid,” Mrs. Taylor suddenly interjected. “Cupids are a lot cuter than angels,” she added with a wink.

I felt my stomach do a flip-flop. Mrs. Taylor’s cupid reference was a reminder that she hadn’t forgotten about my little adventures at her house. I bit my lip and hoped that she wouldn’t say any more; my poor bottom was not ready for another spanking!

“Well, after what I’ve seen lately I can tell you that David is no angel or a cupid,” quipped my mother. “A little devil, maybe, but definitely not an angel.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that for one minute!” Mrs. Mullins shot me a wink and then locked her eyes in on my exposed penis. I let out a loud sigh and she giggled like a little girl; there wasn’t anything I could do except just stand there and try to not faint with shame.

“I mean, really, ladies, just look at him! He is so gorgeous! Even down between his legs, his little wee-wee is so pretty. His whole body is so smooth and clean and adorable. He’s just like a little baby! I swear to goodness, David, you’re so sweet, I could just eat you up! Be careful, I just might have to take you home with me!”

Hearing this fat woman with the little girl laugh gave me the shivers. I looked at my mom and gave her the can’t-you-make-this-stop look. The look she gave back to me was more like you-should-be-more-careful-about-what-you-ask-for.

Imagine that.

“Well, you can certainly have him if you want him,” Mom said sarcastically. “He’s been awfully naughty lately. I can’t do a thing with him. Maybe you can make him mind!”

“Oh, I can’t imagine such a pretty child being naughty,” cooed Mrs. Mullins. “Even if he was a bit mischievous, I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be cured with a little love and some good old-fashioned hands on discipline.”

My eyes went wide as I looked over at my mother. She smiled at me as though we were sharing a secret joke between the two of us and she gave me a little wink.

“We’re giving old-fashioned hands on discipline a try,” she said in a nonchalant tone of voice. “The jury is still out on its effectiveness.”

Aunt Margaret and Mrs. Taylor both laughed, and Mrs. Mullins even chuckled. Again, I didn’t see the humor in their response at all; my bottom was still hurting too much.

Old Lady Mullins suddenly reached out and grabbed my hand and pulled me close. She then put her hands on my shoulders and turned me to face her square. I felt completely exposed as she looked me in the eye, but I didn’t say a word or move a muscle in my defense.

“So, tell me, David, how old are you now? Eight? Nine?” Her eyes went up and down my body like so many creepy fingers. “Without any clothes you look like you’re barely old enough to go to school.”

I looked over at my mom, who shrugged her shoulders. I frowned and said, “I’m eleven, going on twelve. My birthday is next week, as a matter of fact.”

The chubby woman clucked her tongue. “You’re teasing me! Almost twelve years old? You can’t be! You don’t look a day over six or seven! Just look at that cute little face … those kissable lips … and that pretty hair with those sweet curls! Plus, you don’t have any hair DOWN THERE! Aw, David! You are so adorable, I could just eat you up!”

“See, that’s what I said,” my Aunt Margaret said with a chuckle. “With no clothes on he does look a lot younger than eleven. And you’re right about his little dingaling. It looks exactly like it did when he was a little baby.”

There was another burst of feminine laughter and I looked around to see four happy faces looking right back at me. I made a pouty face, then tried to argue my point … as if that was going to make a difference, considering the disadvantage of my appearance.

“I am not a baby! And I’m not six and I’m not seven, either! I’m almost twelve! And I’m not in the first grade! I’m in sixth grade and I’ll be going to junior high school next year! Isn’t that right, Mom?”

My mother waved her hands. “Oh no, don’t bring me into this argument. This is between you and Mrs. Mullins! I’m just watching from the sidelines.”

“Oh, David, don’t you tease me! I don’t believe for one minute that you’re eleven years old!” the jolly woman said with a laugh. She then reached down with both hands and grabbed me high around the waist, tickling my ribs until I was squealing with forced delight.

“What are you doing …. EEEEEEEK! No tickle! No tickle! NOOOOOO TICKLE!!!”

“I think you’re trying to play a trick on this old lady. I think you’re actually in the first grade. I think you just got mixed up … I think that you’re six years old and not in the sixth grade at all!”

Before I could take a breath I was laughing out loud as hard as I could and gasping for air in the process. I laughed so hard, in fact, I felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

“NOOOO! *gasp* Mrs. Mull- … Please, no … *gasp!* Mrs. Mullins! Don’t! Tickle! Me! Please … Mrs. Mullins … *gasp!* Noooo … tickle … NOOOOO!!!! *gasp!* Please … STOOOOOOOOP IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!”

“See? This doesn’t sound like a big old junior high schooler to me,” cackled the old lady. “This sounds more like a nice little first grader, that’s what it sounds like to me!”

“I can’t argue with you there.” Mom grinned at me and shot me a mocking wink. “He acts like a first grader most of the time anyway. Especially the way he’s been lately. I think maybe you’re right.”

I tried to get mad, but I was laughing so hard, I could barely breathe. “NO! I’m not! I’m not! *gasp!* … I … *gasp!* … am … *gasp!* …. not …. *gasp!* …. a first grader! I am almost …. *gasp!* twelve years … *gasp!* …. old!!!”

All of a sudden a hand clamped down over my mouth and my nose at the same time, keeping me from screaming or talking or saying anything. I couldn’t even breathe, which was pretty scary! Another hand held me tight by the wrists, preventing me from escaping. Naked and trapped in the clutches of this strangely powerful woman, I felt about as helpless as I’d ever felt before.

“Now see? He can’t be that old,” Mrs. Mullins said happily. “He’s so cute and cuddly, he can’t be more than five or six.”

I fought desperately to breathe – I mean, I was really in a panic! – but she had my mouth and nose sealed up tight. Try as I might, I couldn’t get my hands loose or do anything to get air.

“That laughter didn’t sound like it came from an eleven year old boy to me,” my captor brightly sang. “That didn’t sound like it came from someone who goes to junior high school. That sounds like a grade schooler, like someone who hasn’t even graduated first grade. That’s what it sounded like to me!”

At this point I got scared. I couldn’t breathe at all and I was afraid I might pass out. “Mmmmph! Mmmmm ... mmmmmph!” was about all I could get out from behind my captor’s fat hands.

My Aunt Margaret gave me a warning look. “David, sweetie, I think if I was in your shoes I’d be changing my story. Oh wait … you’re not wearing any shoes, are you?”

“Or anything else,” joked Mrs. Taylor. “This is very interesting. You’re really got a grip on him, don’t you? I wonder how long he can hold his breath. The suspense is … terrifying.”

My archnemesis was right; it was terrifying and I was terrified. “Mmmmph! Mmph! Mmph! Mmmmmmmmmmmph!” I grunted, but to no effect. I By now I was in a real panic. My lungs were hurting like crazy for air and I was struggling to get loose. But Old Lady Mullins was not letting go. Not just yet.

“Well, I suppose it all depends on our guest,” sang my mother. She smiled as I struggled under Mrs. Mullin’s powerful grip; t didn’t bother her at all that I was nearly suffocating. “Feel free to do as you see fit, Mabel. He’s all yours for the rest of the day as far as I’m concerned.”

“Oh, I can keep this up for hours at a time,” said the bosomy bully. “I have four nieces who keep me busy when they visit, so handling one silly little boy with no clothes is a piece of cake for me!”

I was tired of everyone talking about me as if I wasn’t even in the room. At long last I somehow managed to get an arm free and I pulled Mrs. Mullins’ hand from my mouth and squeaked out a plea for help; it was all I could do as my lungs were starving for air.

“MOOOOOOM!!! *gasp!* Mommy! *gasp!* Please … make her let me go! *gasp!* Please … Mommy … *gasp!* … I don’t want to do this anymore ….”

Mrs. Mullins spun me around to face our audience; the move completely caught me off guard and before I knew it, she pulled me up on her lap and put me in a position that suddenly restricted my every move, rendering my entire body completely immobile. My hands were crossed behind my back and my legs were somehow tangled about her thigh with my feet locked underneath; facing my mom and my aunt and a smug looking Mrs. Taylor, I was alarmed to find there was no escaping, no matter what I did or how hard I tried. To my horror my captor resumed tickling me with her free hand, running her rude fingers up and down my torso until I was choking for breath.

“Please ... *gasp* ... no ...*gasp* ... don't ...*gasp* ... tickle ... *gasp* ... meeeeee!” I squealed.

Mrs. Mullins cut me off by putting her hand back over my mouth and nose again before I could take in a breath. Almost immediately I felt like I was smothering to death!

“So, little David, how old are you, baby doll?” Her warm breath tickled the back of my neck and my ear; I gave a shiver, it was so creepy. “You’re nowhere near eleven years old are you? You’re just a little baby, aren’t you? You can’t be more than six years old? Isn’t that right, sweetie? You’re not eleven and never have been, have you? Hmm? Hmm?”

The cruel woman pulled her hand away to let me answer; I was never so grateful to do something as simple as to breathe.

“Nooooo … *gasp!* … please, no more,” I fussed as I squirmed in her immense and expansive lap. “Please, Mrs. M-M-Mullins … noooooo … no tickle … no tickle … noooooooo tiiiiiiiiiickllllllllllle ….”

I almost peed myself as those terrible fingers slid down my legs and started pinching and poking at my knees and inside my thighs. I couldn’t believe how adept this weird old lady was, holding me solidly in place while playing my body like some sort of guitar or cello. She plucked at my thighs, poked me in the ribs and pinched my nipples with the expertise of a master. And all along she kept up a consistent repartee, telling me what she wanted me to say and timing her words with the constant squeal of laughter and begging that came out of my mouth.

“You’re not eleven years old, are you, sweetheart? You’re just a little baby, no more than six. You just got mixed up … you’re just six years old and not in the sixth grade at all! You’re just a silly little first grader, aren’t you?”

“EEEEEEE … pleeeeeeasssssse … Mom Mom Mom … MOOOOOOMMMYYYYY!!! Please make her stop! Please make her stop! PLEEEEEASSSS MAAAKE HEEERRRRR STOOOOOOOOOOOPPP!!!”

The tickling went on for another few seconds, driving me wild with involuntary laughter and spasms. Between nearly smothering to death and the need to pee, I was desperate to get away … but I never even came close.

At long last there was a momentary pause, just long enough to let me catch my breath. I was coughing and spitting at this point. And I was desperate for this awful tickle torture to stop.

“Mmmmph!!! Mommy … mmmmmph … *gasp* … can’t … *gasp* … breave ….”

“Are you ready for another round, little David?” asked Mrs. Mullins. “I’m ready when you are, baby doll. I’m just getting warmed up!”

“Please … *gasp* … no more … no more ….” I begged.

The mischievous matron giggled. “Soooooo … just how old are you, David? You’re way too little to be in sixth grade. You look more like a first grader to us, with that tiny little dingaling and no hair down there. Tell us, baby boy … just how old are you?”

As if to punctuate her suggestions, Mrs. Mullins slid her hand down between my knees and began pinching and nipping at the tender skin inside my legs and thighs. That was it. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I’d say anything … I’d do anything … just as long as that crazy old lady stopped tickling me!

“EEEEEEEE!!! No, don’t please …. *gasp!* …. OKAY OKAY OKAY!!! I’M SIX YEARS OLD!!! …. *gasp!* … I’M NOT ELEVEN YEARS OLD!!! I’M SIX YEARS OLD!!! I AM SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIX YEEEEEEARSSSS OOOOOOOLLLLLLD!!!!”

“That’s right, you’re not eleven years old, you’re just a six year old, aren’t you?” The bullying woman laughed. “You’re just a little first grader, aren’t you? Hmm? Hmmm? You belong in first grade with all of the other little first graders! That’s what you are, isn’t it? Just a silly little first grader!”

“YEEEESSSSS!!! …. *gasp!* …. I AM A FIRST GRADER!!! …. *gasp!* …. PLEEEEASE …. MOOOOM … MAKE IT …. *gasp!* …. STOOOOOP!!!! I’M A FIRST GRADER!!! …. *gasp!* …. Oh gosh … oh gosh oh gosh … I promise … I’M A STUPID LITTLE FIRST GRADER!!!”

The tickling only lasted a few minutes, five, maybe ten at the most, from what my mom told me later. But it was enough to make me nearly lose my mind. When it was over Mrs. Mullins released me and pushed me off her lap. I stood weak kneed and defeated before the four women, humiliated and exhausted. I remember looking around the table and seeing Mrs. Mullins and my mom and Aunt Margaret and Mrs. Taylor all smugly smirking in my direction, as if they knew some great secret and were determined to keep it from me.

“Well, that certainly was educational,” said my mother. “You got David to say something I never thought I’d hear. All he’s talked about these past few days is turning twelve and going on to junior high school next year. You’d have thought he was turning into a grown man from all his bragging. And in just a few minutes you got him to deny it all. That was amazing to me. There are a few other things I’d like to change his mind about. I may have to try that little trick sometime.”

Mrs. Mullins grinned a toothy, girlish grin. “Raising little ones isn’t that hard. Pain and pleasure are huge with children, especially sweet little boys like David here. Between the hairbrush and being the tickle monster, you can get them to do pretty much whatever you need them to do.”

I winced as the fat woman pulled me close. “Here, sweetie, your hair is a mess. Let Aunt Mabel fix it for you.”

I stood nervously as the fat woman fiddled with the flowers in my hair for a moment. She then framed my face with her hands and gave me a little kiss, right on the lips! Before I could pull away she then gave me a big hug; I couldn’t help but squirm as a wayward hand slid under my bottom and mischievous fingers pinched my tender buttcheeks.

“EEK!!! Mrs. Mullins … please, don’t do that!” I squeaked. “My bottom is already sore enough!”

It was Aunt Margaret’s turn to speak up. “That’s from a little spanking he got just before you arrived,” she said with a laugh.

“Now see, that’s what I’m talking about! I’m glad to see that you applied it while he was in his birthday suit,” said my mischievous tormentor. “You’re always quick to attract their attention and there’s no mistaking your intent when you don’t have to fight through all those unnecessary clothes.”

Mom nodded. “Oh, we figured that out, didn’t we?”

My Aunt Margaret nodded in agreement. “Yes we did.”

Mrs. Taylor cleared her throat, which prompted me to look in her direction. “So tell me, David. I’m curious. Just how old are you again?”

The table got very quiet. I started to speak, then paused. I knew what I wanted to say, but a glance at my mom and then at Mrs. Mullins caused me to rethink my answer.

I felt a wave of heat rise in my cheeks as I spoke. “I’m, um … I’m … six … I guess.”

My employer frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Six what, exactly?”

I sighed. “Six years old. I’m … six years old.”

Mrs. Taylor raised an eyebrow. “What was that again? I didn’t quite hear you.”

I grimaced, then sighed. “I’m … I’m six years old.”

There was a ripple of giggles from the group of women. I felt my stomach churn in shame.

“So, you say you’re six years old?” I nodded, though somewhat reluctantly, and the pretty lady smiled smugly. “Well, you certainly look that age in your cute little birthday suit. And so, David, what grade are you in? Hmm? Hmmm?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m in … first grade,” I spat impatiently.

“Let’s try that again without the attitude,” Mom snapped. “First, apologize to Mrs. Taylor for being ugly. Then tell her how old you are and what grade you’re in. And smile while you’re at it. As a matter of fact, I want you to smile the rest of the afternoon. There’s no sense in looking all sad and pouty. Smile … or there will be another paddling in your future.”

I took a deep breath, then worked up the best smile I could come up with, considering my situation. I looked over at my mom, who motioned for me to make my smile even bigger. I took another deep breath … and did as I was told.

“I’m sorry for being ugly, Mrs. Taylor,” I said in as cheerful a voice as I could muster. “I’m … I’m six years old … and I’m … I’m in the first grade.”

I looked at my mom and was rewarded with big grin and a kissy face. I didn’t know if I should be happy or sad, but I did know that I better keep smiling if I didn’t want another paddling.

“How charming. How very, very charming. Six years old and in the first grade. That’s exactly what you look like.” Mrs. Taylor sat back and took a sip of lemonade. “Just one thing, David. You never have to apologize to me for being ugly. You are never ugly. You’re quite possibly the prettiest little boy I’ve ever seen.”

I glanced back at my mother. She looked at me with wide eyes and an eager nod. While I thought that was one of the weirdest things anybody could have said to me, she apparently thought it appropriate. Worn out and confused, I didn’t say another word. I just crossed my arms and sighed, which was pretty much my standard pose that day.

Mom and Aunt Margaret and Mrs. Taylor began whispering to one another, leaving me to entertain Old Lady Mullins. It turned out she wasn’t quite done with me. I watched suspiciously as she waved for me to come closer.

“Well David, we all know how pretty you are, but Aunt Mabel wants to see how healthy you are. Come here and spin around so she can get a good look at you. Come on, spin around so Aunt Mabel can give you a quick inspection. Come on, give me a little twirl.”

I looked at my mom, who nodded and made a spinning motion with her fingers. I sighed and put my arms down by my side and did as I was told, turning about in a spin to quick and fast that I almost fell down. A quick glance at Mrs. Taylor’s evil grinning face reminded me of how she made me spin around all naked on top of her coffee table. I suddenly felt an alarming tingling sensation between my legs.

“Oh, he’s little cutie, yes he is!” To my surprise Mrs. Mullins reached out and gave my penis a little flick with her finger as I spun about. She did it again and again, much to my annoyance. “Just look at that little wee-wee! It’s not often Aunt Mabel gets to see one of those things anymore. Ooooo, just look at it! It looks like it’s waking up from a long nap!”

I had a bad feeling about what that crazy woman was saying. Sure enough, when I looked down I saw I had a stupid erection! Not only was my penis stiff, but it was sticking out at a horizontal angle and was still rising! My face burned red hot and I shot a glance at my mom. She was shaking her head, lips pursed, disgust written all over her face.

“David! Really? In front of everyone? I swear, I ought to paddle your butt again!”

“I … I can’t help it,” I whispered. “It … it’s not my fault ….”

My Aunt Margaret and Mrs. Taylor, needless to say, were both almost as delighted with this new development as was Old Lady Mullins. Their leering smiles and giggles made me blush with disgrace. I covered erection with my hands, but all that did was make my mom mad.

“David!” she yelled at me. “Stop touching yourself like that! It’s bad enough you’re sticking out! I do not want you playing with that thing, especially in front of company!”

“But … I wasn’t … playing with it ….” The look on my mom’s face warned me that I was on dangerous grounds. I sighed as I put my hands to my sides and let my shame stick straight out for the amusement of my womanly audience. “This is embarrassing!” I exclaimed in frustration.

“Well, it looks to me like my little nephew isn’t as … little … as I thought.” My aunt reached out and, following Mrs. Mullins’ example, gave the end of my stiff penis a hard flick. She wasn’t as gentle as our elderly guest; an electric shock at the sensitive tip was bad enough to make me cry out and bend over in pain.

“Ow! Aunt Margaret! That hurt!” I cried. A trickle of tears ran down my face and I looked at my mom. “Mooooom, she hurt my … my … wiener! Make her stop!”

Aunt Margaret laughed. “I don’t know why you’re complaining to your mommy. What’s she supposed to do, kiss it and make it better?”

“Maybe you should kiss his little booboo,” my mother teased. “You were always the expert on that kind of thing back in high school, if I remember correctly.”

Well, the whole table erupted with hilarious, nearly hysterical laughter at that one; even Mrs. Mullins and Mrs. Taylor were giggling at that one. My mom wasn’t too happy at first, but after some teasing and sliding an ice cube down her sister’s blouse, she loosened up and joined in the merriment.

I have to remind you that I didn’t quite understand my mother’s joke; the idea of my aunt kissing my wiener was more disgusting than pleasurable to my way of thinking. Remember, I was just eleven when all this happened, and despite my rather extensive collection of men’s magazines I still didn’t know much of anything about sex. All I knew was that I hated being picked on, and being picked on when you’re naked and in front of a bunch of rowdy women is the absolute worst!

Of course, Mrs. Mullins had to bring the focus back on me. She insisted that I resume my clumsy pirouette so she could look at my naked body. I gritted my teeth and did as I was told.

“Go on, baby, spin around for your Auntie Mabel. That’s it, turn around and around so we can all get a good look at you ….”

And so I spun around and around until I was nearly dizzy with vertigo. This weird woman with her spoiled brat attitude had taken complete control of the day, as far as I was concerned. She had no qualms about stroking my hair or touching me under my arms or patting my bare bottom; and she was unfiltered when it came to gushing on and on about how cute my penis looked sticking out and how smooth my skin felt and how perfect my bottom was. I felt like a doll that had been undressed and was now being handled by a naughty little girl.

“Okay, that’s enough play time,” cooed the grinning matron. I was then directed to stand still with my hands at my sides. “Be still so Auntie Mabel can check your little dingaling and see if it’s healthy. After all, if you don’t have your health, what good are you!”

I looked over at my mom, who in turn gave me the “don’t you dare argue about it!” look. I sighed. I then stood stock still with terror as my “inspector” examined my erect penis, tugging on it and fondling it and giving the sensitive tip close scrutiny. She muttered to herself the entire time, sometimes giving a little giggle. When she was done she pronounced me healthy and hygienic, which was apparently a thing for her.

“Well, I have to say, that is one clean wee-wee,” she said with girlish satisfaction. “I’ve never seen a cleaner wee-wee! You really do a good job taking care of your little friend.”

“It better be clean,” my mom said. “He was in the shower long enough this morning.”

Old Lady Mullins even slid her fingers under my little ballsack and gave it a little caress and a soft squeeze with her warm hand. Maybe if this had happened in private with just the two of us it might have felt very nice, but in front of my mom and my aunt and our guests, it was shameful.

“How wonderful!” she exclaimed happily. “It feels just like a little peach!”

That stirred up plenty of giggling and whispering among our guests, of course. A pleading look for help toward my mother was greeted with a sharp glare that said “keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told – or else!”

The humiliation didn’t end there. Mrs. Mullins continued to gush on about how “pretty” and “adorable” and “sweet” I was, which as a boy I was really tired of hearing.

“I swear, David is so pretty, I almost thought he was girl when I saw him sitting at the table earlier this morning. I just love how he looks with his long hair and he’s got the most charming little figure. If it wasn’t for this silly little dingaling and coin purse, he’d make the perfect girl!”

“Isn’t that the truth!” interjected Mrs. Taylor. My employer gave me a long, appreciative look and an approving nod. “It’s not often you see a boy with such gorgeous hair, or such a figure! You’d never know it when you first meet him. He looks so frumpy and boring in his silly school clothes, but take them away and he is practically a work of art.”

“A work of art …,” quipped my Aunt Margaret. “I suppose you’re right. He does have that look about him when he’s naked.”

All of the women, including my mother, tittered their approval at that comment.

“But I don’t … I don’t want to be … a work of … art ….” I muttered. “I just want my clothes back ….”

“Please, David, stop your whining,” my mom fussed. “You’re enjoying this a lot more than you pretend and you know it. You love being looked at naked. You love looking at yourself. Why else would you spend so much time standing naked in front of the mirror? Hmm? Answer me that, little mister!”

I felt my face burn. “I … I … d-d-dunno …,” I weakly squeaked.

“Oh, I think I can answer for him,” said Mrs. Mullins. “That’s an easy one. It’s because he’s got titties!!!”

My bullying tormentor suddenly spun me around so I faced my mom and the others; she then slid her hands under my arms and cupped my chubby breasts. I remember looking down and feeling all sorts of shame when I saw my swollen nipples standing straight out. Even I had to admit they looked like girl nipples, which made me feel just awful!

“M-M-Mrs. M-Mullins …. Please, don’t … that … that tickles!”

“Oh, shush you! I’m trying to make a point.” The rude woman squeezed my boy boobs and flicked the nipples with her fingertips. “See? How many boys can say they have their own boobies to play with? And look at those little pink nipples! Aren’t they just perfect? Let’s face it, boys do love titties and our little David here has some very nice ones! What boy wouldn’t want to look at these little cuties if he had the chance?”

I felt my whole body glow with embarrassment as a boisterous burst of womanly merriment swept over me. My mother, my aunt, and both of our guests all laughed hysterically. You’d have thought Mrs. Mullins had told the funniest joke in the world; only I didn’t appreciate the humor of it! I struggled to get loose, but that laughing woman had a grip like a vice. There was no getting away from the shame that was yet to come.

“Auntie Mabel” wasn’t done teasing me; she seemed to revel in it, in fact. She pressed my breasts together with her powerful hands to form cleavage, just like a girl or woman. I wanted to scream out in disgust, but between the iron hands pressing against my lungs and the very real possibility that my mom would blister my bottom again, I gritted my teeth and prayed for this horrible charade to end as quickly as possible.

“Really, Mom, if your David’s sweet little titties get any larger you might have to get him a pretty brassiere, don’t you think?” My captor released my poor breasts, but then used her hands to make them jiggle about. “See? He’s got bigger boobies than my teenaged niece! I mean, you can’t let him run around with them bouncing around like a pair of melons.”

Again, all four women hooted and cackled and I felt like dying. As I told you before, I despised my “boy boobs” and I hated anytime anyone said anything about them; they were the main reason I didn’t like going without a shirt, much less getting seen naked. I mean, they weren’t THAT BIG, but still, they were plump enough to set me apart from any of the other boys who took their shirts off. It was bad enough that I got bullied at school about them, but this was a hundred times worse!

“Stop making fun of me!” I squealed as I struggled under Mrs. Mullins’ embrace. “You’re all being mean to me and I don’t like it!”

The fat woman clucked her tongue and pulled me close, giving me a motherly hug. “Oh honey, we’re not being mean. We’re just having a little fun! You’re so sweet and adorable, it’s impossible to keep our hands off you. You just need to lay back and enjoy being the center of attention. One of these days you’re going to look back and realize just what a lucky little boy you were to have so many pretty ladies fawning over your naked little body!”

Well, that wasn’t how I felt at the time. This had to be the worst thing that had ever happened to me; what made it so bad was that it took place in front of my mom and her guests! I thought about how I’d once fantasized about being put on display and teased and molested by a group of older women. There was a time when I would have given anything for that to happen; now that it was all for real, I regretted every single thought and wish for such a thing!

Mrs. Mullins kept up her vulgar comments and questions, all at my expense, of course. She was especially curious about why in the world I was parading around our back yard naked in the first place. My mom made things extra awkward for me by saying, “You’ll have to ask David. I have no idea why he does the things he does sometimes.”

Mrs. Mullins spun me around and held me around the waist with her iron grip. I squirmed weakly as she looked me dead in the eye.

“Well, what’s the story, pretty boy? Have you decided to become a nudist or is this just some sort of silly fad? Not that it matters, of course. Either way, I approve most whole-heartedly. I think it’s wonderful to look out my kitchen window and seeing a cute little naked boy having fun. I’m just curious as to what’s going on in that curly little head of yours.”

Well, that certainly put me in a spot. There was no way I could tell the truth; I wasn’t even sure what the truth was at this point. Baffled by my situation, I just fudged and tried to think of something that made some sort of sense. And shifted the blame off me, of course!

“I dunno, you’ll have to ask my mom,” I mumbled. “It’s all her fault!”

“Hey, don’t put this on me,” my mother shot back. “You’re the one who got caught going around bare bottomed. Remember? I’m just helping you do what you want. You better get your facts straight before you speak … unless you want another paddling!”

Old Lady Mullins laughed when she heard my lame excuse. So did the other women, my mom included. “And here I thought it was just another way of not having to do any laundry,” the plump woman said with a chuckle. “As I said, regardless of why he’s doing it, it’s certainly got my approval!”

After a few more minutes of being poked and groped and pinched and inspected, I was given a break when my mom sent me to the house to fetch a glass of ice for our elderly guest.

“Refill everybody’s glass while you’re at it,” my mother directed. “And don’t linger. You have less than three minutes to get back here. If you’re late you’re getting another spanking!”

I didn’t waste any time hurrying to the house and back, let me tell you! As much as I hated rushing around in my birthday suit and seeing my stupid penis bouncing around like an errant puppy dog’s tail, I did not want to get my bottom blistered again. I was still hurting from my earlier session with the paddle and that was enough for me! I just scampered along as fast as I could – no running, please, my mom reminded me – and did as I was told.

Upon my return I was instructed to top off everyone else with lemonade. I felt like a maid servant as I went around the table with the pitcher; each lady gave me their full, undivided attention as I poured freshened their drink, their eyes alight with delight and their lips curled into mischievous, judgmental smiles. Not a word was said during that little ritual, but the message was clear: I was the naked slave boy and they were each and every one of them loving it!

Once my chores were done my mom told me to have a seat. “Don’t wander off. I may need you to run some more errands for us,” she said.

“Um, where I am supposed to sit?” I asked. A sudden thrill of hope caused my heart to skip a beat. “Can I go inside now? Please, Mom?”

My mother smiled. “Oh no, you need to stay here with us. You need to stay close by so I can keep my eye on you. Why don’t you just have a seat on the ground?”

I blinked. “What … you mean, on the grass?”

“Sure, why not? You can sit or, if you want, lie down beside us and keep us company while we chitchat.” There was that raised eyebrow again. “Go on, don’t worry. You won’t get in trouble if you get grass stain on your bare bottom. At least I won’t have to worry about washing your clothes!”

Needless to say, that triggered some laughter from the group. I started to fuss, but my aching bottom reminded me that might not be such a good idea. Blushing furiously, I dropped to my knees and then got in all fours in order to lie down. Someone whistled at me – well, either at my erection or my bare bottom, you figure it out – which was really embarrassing. I looked up to see four sets of eager eyes watching me as I tried to get comfortable.

“Don’t mind us, pretty boy,” Aunt Margaret sang cheerfully. “We’re just enjoying the view.”

It took me a minute to figure out what I was doing. At first I tried sitting, but the ground was hard beneath the grass and my aching bottom couldn’t take it. I laid on my belly for a minute or two, figuring that was the best way to hide my stiff penis, but the grass tickled and made me itch; plus the position left my bare bottom to everyone’s view. Mrs. Mullins teased that I looked like a little baby on a bearskin rug. I didn’t quite get the joke, but everyone else apparently did, judging from all the whispers and giggles.

Frustrated by the constant harassment from my elders, I then rolled over on my back and found myself staring up into the sky and the leaves in tree; not only that, but putting my stupid erection and balls on display was not exactly my idea of a good time, either.

“Ooooo, you ought to stay like that, David,” Mom said with more than a bit of meanness in her voice. “That way we can all keep an eye on your nasty little dingaling and make sure it doesn't get you into any more trouble.”

“His dinga-what?” teased my Aunt Margaret. “Oh, good grief! You can say penis, sister dear. You’re not the baby here, you know. David’s the baby. Isn’t that right, Baby Davy?”

There was a ripple of whispers all around the table, followed by more giggling. I felt my face burning with anger, but I didn't dare say anything for fear of making my situation even worse.

I finally came to a compromise of sorts, lying on my side with my head propped up with my hand. That was the most comfortable as it took the pressure off my sore bottom. Plus, by facing the table I could see what was going on while keeping my bare butt away from prying eyes. I could also position my leg so my erection wasn’t so easily seen, too. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best I could do in an awkward situation.

Time seemed to slow down at this point. The women chatted and laughed among themselves and I went from frustrated and embarrassed to frustrated and bored. Lying on the ground was not fun for me, not one little bit. A couple of times I felt something crawling on me – it turned out to be an ant, of course – and I made a fuss, but Mom insisted I stay where I was.

“Uh-uh! You stay where you are, little mister! Get back down there! You made your bed, so now you have to lie in it.”

“But … Moooom! There’s ants and bugs and it itches. Can’t I go inside? Puh-leeeeeassssse???”

“No, you cannot. You keep raising a fuss and I’ll make you sleep out here tonight all by yourself. After that little stunt you pulled last night, you ought to like that!”

I hated when she said stuff like that. But I did what I do best and kept my mouth shut.

After a while the sun moved just enough that I was no longer under the shade; the sunlight first hit my feet and legs and then eventually traveled up to my bare bottom and belly. I started getting hot and uncomfortable and whinier than I already was. I wanted to get up, but I got shut down almost immediately.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” my mother demanded. “Nobody gave you permission to move, much less get up. Get back down there until I say otherwise!”

"But Moooom, please let me go inside. It's really hot and I'm getting tired."

"Shush, you! The grownups are talking! Don't be rude!"

"But Moooom, it's so hot! Can't I at least move out of the sun? Puh-leeeeeassse?"

"I said for you to hush! Lie back down and do not get up until I give you permission! Do you want me to paddle your butt again?"

Aunt Margaret added to my misery, tossing a couple of ice cubes at me and doing her best to stir me up even more and make me mad.

“Moooom! Please make her stop it!” I fussed. “That ice is cold and she’s getting me all wet!”

“Don’t complain to me. It’s not my fault if you kids can’t get along.”

“But Mooooom!” I got so mad I had tears in my eyes. “She’s being mean to me!”

“Aw, don’t be such a crybaby, you crybaby!” Aunt Margaret teased. “I don’t know why you’re complaining. It’s not like I’m getting your clothes wet! Remember, you’re naked!”

I knew I was naked. I didn’t need my stupid aunt to tell me that. But that wasn’t my biggest problem; my biggest problem was people calling me a “crybaby.” As soon as Aunt Margaret said that stupid word Mrs. Taylor caught my eye. I saw the sly smile on her face and I knew I was in trouble; my evil employer knew I had a history with being called “crybaby” and she was obviously enjoying the irony of my situation.

“Poor little David,” the pretty woman sang. “He really is a bit of a crybaby, isn’t he? The poor thing. I must admit, I find that delightful … there’s something about a … a crybaby … that just melts my heart.”

Aunt Margaret laughed. “Then let’s see if we can make him cry some more. Here, little crybaby, see how you like this! Cry for us, crybaby!”

My aunt resumed harassing me, only instead of tossing ice cubes she was now dipping her fingers in her drink and flicking cold droplets of lemonade at me over and over and over again. Within seconds I was covered in the sweet, sticky drink, all over my naked body, my hair and even in my eyes. That was really irritating and it made me so mad I was about to cry. Mom pretended not to notice, but I could see she was clearly entertained by her sister’s playful bullying. Mrs. Mullins and Mrs. Taylor added to the merriment with their happy smiles and bright laughter.

“Mom, please, make her stop!” I whined. “It’s not funny and I’m getting all messy.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it when you were all messy this morning,” Aunt Margaret shot back. “From what I heard you love getting sticky in bed!”

It took me a second before I realized what my aunt was talking about; then I remembered how my mom found me in bed with my stained pillow and my pulse raced with anxiety. Did Mom tell Aunt Margaret about that stupid wet dream? And how I messed my sheets again? Judging from the light in my mother’s eyes and the smile on my aunt’s face, apparently so. But why would she do such a thing? Was everything in my life subject to discussion?

“What’s the matter, messy boy?” Aunt Margaret teased. She was acting more like a bratty girl at this point than a grown woman. “Tell us all about getting sticky and messy! What’s the matter, hmm? Don’t you have anything to say about that? Hmm? Hmmm?”

A sudden pang of guilt swept over me and I lowered my head before I could see if anyone knew what we were talking about; I got my answer when I realized I was surrounded by a bunch of leering, smiling faces. I felt tears burning my eyes and I wiped them away as fast as I could.

“How funny,” Mrs. Taylor said. “This is just like watching a pair of bickering children.”

Mom sighed. “Oh, they're a pair of children, all right. The big one is a spoiled brat and the little one is a sneaky little pervert.”

“Oh, so I’m the spoiled brat, hmm?” Aunt Margaret laughed. “You just don’t know how to have fun. You should try it. You might actually like it!”

Mom laughed. “I just might do that.”

I watched with disbelief as my own mother dipped her fingers in her glass and flicked lemonade on me. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me!

“You know, you’re right, sister dear. This really is fun. What do you think, David? How do you like a little lemonade shower? Is it sticky enough for you?”

“Moooom! You’re getting me all wet!” I complained. “This isn’t fair! You’re all ganging up on me and being mean to me! I don’t wanna do this anymore!”

“Too bad, so sad.” Mom giggled, then flicked some more lemonade at me. “We’re just having a little fun. You’re not getting hurt or anything, so just shush and enjoy the attention. Your Aunt Margaret is right, it’s not like we have to do your laundry. Besides, this is what you wanted, wasn’t it? To be in your birthday suit and getting a little attention from some pretty ladies?”

I was so upset I started to get up and run into the house, which no doubt would have made my mom mad. That’s when Mrs. Mullins suddenly reached out and took my hand in a firm grip. She then pulled me close and gave me a powerful hug, forcing my face in between her huge breasts.

“Oh, you poor little thing! Let Auntie Mabel protect you from the wicked old women and their nasty ways! That’s it, sweetie pie, you just let Auntie Mabel keep you safe.”

This was pretty strange, creepy, even. From the moment this plump, jolly woman showed up that morning it was like I was her personal pet to grope and poke as much as she liked. At that instant, however, I didn’t complain; being in her arms put an end to my aunt’s incessant bullying, so I just went with it and hugged my savior back, though perhaps a bit clumsily. Pulling my face from between those magnificent breasts, I looked over at my mom, who had a funny smile on her face. My aunt, on the other hand, stuck her tongue out at me, playing out her role as the bratty girl.

"Aww, isn't he cute! The little crybaby can't take it so he goes and hides behind a pretty lady's skirt like a little girl! Nice going, crybaby!"

"Mom! She's doing it again! Make her stop teasing me! Does she have to be so mean?!!!'

There was another wave of laughter, but then it got awful quiet; I suddenly realized everyone was watching me being held in Mrs. Mullins' arms and I began feeling extremely self-conscious about where all this was going. It didn’t help that my mom and my aunt kept grinning at me. I tried to pull away, but the bosomy matron squeezed me tight and forced my face against one of her pillow-like breasts as if I was a little baby.

“Poor little thing, poor, poor little thing,” she cooed. “Don’t you worry, Auntie Mabel will take care of you ….”

It wasn’t so bad, being a willing captor in the arms of this odd woman. Oh, sure, she doted over me like I really was a first grader, but it was kind of nice in a way. I didn’t mind when she insisted on rearranging the flowers in my hair and braiding a couple of locks on either side of my face – “Just for fun!” I didn’t even say anything when her hands slid up and down my body, groping and fondling my breasts and bare bottom; I mean, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I decided that was better than getting my butt spanked or being mocked by my overly eager Aunt Margaret.

“Uh-oh!” Mrs. Mullins suddenly declared. “Somebody’s going to get a sunburn if they’re not careful! Just look at that pink skin and how tender it is. I think somebody needs some lotion.”

I squirmed as the rude woman began rubbing and pinching and examining my naked body. Her main focus was on the tops of my thighs and my bare bottom, but her wandering hands were everywhere. I writhed and wriggled as she inspected me for traces of sunburn from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

“Oh yes, I see some serious redness on your bottom! Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ve got just the thing back at my house,” Mrs. Mullins happily sang. “We can give our little angel here a good coating of lotion so he doesn’t get his little fanny sunburned any more than it already is.”

Ugh! The contentment I felt just a few minutes earlier had suddenly evaporated. I had a frightening vision of that creepy woman rubbing her slippery hands all over my body in places where she probably shouldn’t, and it gave me the shivers! Things were bad enough as it was, but I had a pretty good imagination and I could see them getting a lot worse. Determined to stop her before things got really bad, I somehow managed to slip out of her arms and I backed away as quickly as I could. I started to fuss and say something that would have most likely gotten my butt beat again; instead, I chose the more cautious route, biting my tongue in favor of softer, gentler … and more carefully selected words.

“Um … no please, that’s all right. I’m good, I promise! I feel great … I don’t need any lotion, I promise! Please … you don’t have to ….”

There were some comments among the four women and the prerequisite shaking and nodding of heads. Mrs. Mullins and my mom mumbled something between the two of them, and finally our nosy neighbor shrugged her shoulders and nodded.

“Well, if you insist,” said my mother. “But if you get sunburned, don’t say you weren’t warned.”

“You’ll be sorry,” the fat neighbor lady said with a sly smile. “I wouldn’t help you now if you begged me!”

Things calmed down a bit after that. I laid back down on the grass and pouted for a while; I figured that was the best way to distance myself from my mischievous captors, especially my Aunt Margaret. No matter what was said to me, I refused to respond to her taunts or play along with any of her little mind games. After a few attempts at teasing and baiting me into an argument, she finally gave up and left me alone. The four women resumed chatting or gossiping or whatever it was ladies do … and I just lay there and tried to think of more pleasant things, like what I was going to do when all of this was over with.

It’ll all be over soon, I kept thinking to myself. And when it is, I’m going to my room and putting on some clothes and never coming out again for as long as I live!

This quiet time went on for a lot longer than I had hoped. With nothing else to do I had the opportunity to think and reflect on all that had happened, especially the things that took place in the past twenty-four hours. I thought about all of the weird things that had happened to me, from my afternoon with Mrs. Taylor to running home naked to getting caught first by Jackie and then by my own mother … and as I did, something odd happened. The more I thought about each event … and the more I replayed them all in my eleven year old mind … the more I found my frowns turning into subtle, secret smiles … and my regrets into … excitement?

At one point my mom noticed how quiet I was and she tossed an ice cube at me to catch my attention. “What are you grinning about, my naked little monkey? What is going on inside that warped little mind of yours?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said. My face burned as I thought about what she would say if she knew the truth. “I was just thinking.”

She looked at me for a second, then nodded. “You’d best be thinking about changing your ways, little monkey. Until then, you just might find yourself stuck like this.”

There was something about that statement that caused me to giggle. I know, I know, after all I’d been through, you’d have thought I had enough of it. And so did I. But after giving it some thought … I came to the conclusion that … y’know, Mom was right; this was actually what I’d wanted after all. Kind of.

“This isn’t so bad,” I whispered to myself as I laid back and stared into the trees above. “This is … kinda … fun … I guess ….”

And so I dozed off … the sounds of feminine chatter and laughter faded away … and I dreamed of large breasted women with knowing eyes and mischievous smiles ….

Little did I know that upon my awakening … my world would come crashing down and I would never quite see things the same way ever again ….

To be continued ….

(End of File)