Be Careful What You Ask For 6

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. 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 Six – I Reveal More Than I Ever Intended

And so there I was, a naïve, curious eleven year old boy without a stitch of clothing to cover my body, standing in the kitchen of a home not my own but one that belonged to my mother’s mysterious friend. Just an arm’s length away, the lady of the house towered over me, a glass of red wine in her hand and an amused smirk on her face.

For the past few months I’d fantasized about moments like this, daydreaming about being rendered naked and helpless at the mercy of a beautiful woman; I never really expected such a thing to actually happen, but fate played a cruel trick on me and now I was paying the price for my secret crimes.

Funny thing … after all I’d been through that evening at Mrs. Taylor’s house, I was surprised to discover that I’d only been there for a couple of hours. At least that was according to the clock in the kitchen. I tried replaying the evening’s events in my mind, arriving, eating dinner and … well, everything else. It seemed like a lot longer, but apparently not.

Like I said before, time flies when you’re having fun.

Having said all that, I still had to finish showing Mrs. Taylor my daily chore routine; or as she called it, playing “the game.” All that remained was feeding the fish in her garden. But I had two problems: the first was, I had to do it in the nude, according to my hostess. She insisted. At the time I couldn’t complain; that was how I’d done it when she wasn’t home. It was only right that I show her how I did it when there was no one watching me.

My other problem was I still had to go pee something terrible. I’d been suffering for more than an hour – so badly that my poor penis was in a state of constant erection! – but whenever I brought up the matter my hostess dismissed my request, insisting that I could hold off until later. Well, “later” was upon me and if I didn’t get relief soon I was going to embarrass myself in a way that would no doubt prove catastrophic!

“Mrs. Taylor?”

“Yes, dear?”

I gave my captor my most pitiful look. “I really gotta go. I mean … I really REALLY gotta!”

"You've got to what ...?"

I sighed. "I gotta go, you know ... pee."

My captor giggled. “Oh, you've got to go pee. No, not yet, my little fairy. You can hold it just a little longer. Maybe when you get your chores done.”

“But ….”

A sharp look down her nose shut me up.

“I will tell you when you can go and no sooner. You will just have to wait. Is that clear?”

“Yes … Mrs. Taylor.”

See what I mean??? Between not being allowed to pee and being called a stupid fairy, life was not going my way! Oh, and that whole naked thing was getting old, too!

AAAARRRGH!!!

“Now, my little fairy, why don’t we go out to the garden and feed the fishes. Just like you did while I was gone.” My hostess gave me a sly smile. “I want to see for myself everything you did when you thought nobody was watching.”

I nodded my head. What else was I going to do? I sure wasn’t in a position to put up much of an argument. And so I got the measuring cup of fish food as I’d done time and again during the past two weeks and I went to the French doors.

And then I stopped myself.

It wasn't quite dark outside, but sun had definitely given up for the day. The patio and garden were in shadow, and everything looked so eerie and creepy. I glanced down at my body. Between my shiny pink erection and my stupid boy boobs, I did not feel at all prepared for what I was about to do; the idea of walking around outside in the growing night, defenseless in naught but my bare skin, was suddenly terrifying!

“Please … Mrs. Taylor … don’t make me … not like this ….”

My hostess responded to my plea for mercy in a very matter of fact manner.

“Oh, please, David. Don’t give me that fake little shy act again. I’m not making you do anything you haven’t already done. You saw nothing wrong with running about in your birthday suit when I wasn’t here. What’s the difference now?"

"But ... you're here to see me," I whispered shyly.

"That's absurd!" Mrs. Taylor spat. "You know what a hypocrite is, don't you? That's exactly what you are! You're just dying to show off that cute little butt to somebody. I know it and you know it. You’re just too much of a scaredy cat to admit it to anybody but yourself.”

I started to say something but she put the tip of her finger over my lips.

“Do not argue with me, my little fairy. I know more about this than you do. And I am going to help you get exactly what you need, whether you want it or not.”

I gritted my teeth. It was bad enough that she kept referring to me a “fairy” over and over again. Now she was bullying me around, pushing me way beyond my comfort zone. I wanted to tell her to shut up and give me back my clothes, but that was never going to happen. Still, I just had to say something!

“Well," I croaked with a nervous, hoarse voice, "c-can ... can you at least stop calling me a ... um, you know ... a f-fairy? You keep saying that and it’s n-not … it's not very nice. And I don’t like it!”

“You don’t like being called a fairy?” The delighted woman laughed. “Hmm, if I remember correctly, you’re the one who gave yourself that little nickname. Didn’t I hear you say so on the television? Hmm? Hmmm?”

I lowered my head and nodded, just a little bit.

"Yeah ... I-I ... I guess so," I whispered.

Mrs. Taylor pulled my chin up so I had to look her in the eyes.

"I'm sorry. Would you repeat that? A little louder please?"

I cleared my throat. "Yes Mrs. Taylor. I ... I s-said ... it."’

“Said what?”

I cleared my throat again. “I … I said I was a … a f-fairy.”

“Say it again.”

I pursed my lips and sighed. “I am … a fairy.”

An expression of smug satisfaction spread over my hostess' beautiful movie star face. She'd won yet another victory just by using my own words against me. That made me mad and sad at the same time.

“Okay then. So don’t blame me if you decide you don’t like being called a fairy. I happen to think it fits you perfectly. I mean, just look at yourself, David. You look exactly like a fairy."

"I don't think so!" I said angrily. I was so frustrated, I couldn’t hold back my anger. "Please, Mrs. Taylor, stop saying that! I'm a boy, not some stupid fairy! I don't look like that at all!"

Mrs. Taylor laughed. "Aw, you don't believe that for a minute! You know exactly what you look like, you with your girlish little boobies and that plump little bubble butt. With that beautiful head of hair and that adorable little figure, all so smooth with no hair down there, you look more like a pretty fairy than anybody I know. You know it and I know it. Anybody who sees you like this would know it.”

I resisted the urge to drop the cup of fish food and cover my breasts and my privates. It was bad enough that my mother's friend insisted on calling me a stupid fairy and talked about my “boy boobs”; but then to suggest that more people might see me naked, that was a nightmare!

“But I don’t wanna be a fairy,” I squeaked. "Not really!"

“Poor little thing, he doesn’t want to be a pretty fairy. Too bad, so sad!” Mrs. Taylor giggled, just like a school girl. “Then tell me this – how come you called yourself a fairy in the security footage? You said it more than once and you just laughed and laughed. You thought it was fun then, right? What’s the matter? How come you changed your mind?”

I shrugged. “I dunno. It was … I thought it was kinda funny then. It was … you know … a secret game, I guess.”

My employer nodded. “And now that it’s not secret, now that it’s for real, it’s not so much fun, hmm?"

I shook my head, said nothing.

She laughed. "I bet you're really feeling ashamed about now, aren't you?"

I shook my head again, then nodded. “Yes,” I whispered.

This time she merely smiled. "I can see that. I can see all of it. Unfortunately for you, I happen to think this is fun. Quite a lot of fun, in fact. And funny, too. And since you’re about the only fairy I know, I’m not letting this opportunity go by without enjoying myself.”

I felt her hands on my shoulders; they gripped me hard and spun me around to face the patio doors. I was so weak with fear I couldn’t resist.

"And besides, I think you're enjoying this more than you realize it. You just need a little shove." My hostess laughed again, this time with a bit cruelty, as she pushed me toward my fate. “So, come along, my precocious little fairy, let’s go take a walk in my garden ….”

Well, that didn’t go the way I wanted. Still, I somehow managed to not panic. As I shuffled reluctantly toward those huge French doors I tried to convince myself that perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad. With the failing light I figured the chance of me being seen by outsiders was pretty low. Or so I hoped. I had plenty of places to hide if somebody showed up unexpectedly; there were all sorts of nooks and crannies between the dozen or so statues and I could always run into the maze and hide. As long as I didn’t lose my way and fall into the fish pond, everything should be fine. I mean, what could happen?

And if I was really lucky I might even find a place to go pee without getting caught!

I was about to reach down and open the doors when whole back yard suddenly lit up! That really surprised me. The patio was bathed in bright light and the garden was sprinkled with little clusters of sparkling light bulbs here and there, illuminating the way to the pond and beyond. It looked like something between Christmas and a fairy tale. I looked up at Mrs. Taylor and saw her hand on the panel that controlled the lights. Again, like that stupid television, this was something I’d missed. She gestured toward the garden.

“Go on, little fairy. Let’s see if the fish are as fond of you as Justine is. Go on, don’t be shy. It’ll be fun, right? You’re going to love this!”

This wasn’t good. With all those lights shining across the back of her house I’d practically be in display, like a naked mannequin in a department store window. So much for finding a secret place to go pee. With all those lights shining everywhere, that definitely wasn’t going to happen!

“Go on, David.” I felt a warm, firm hand press against my back. “Don’t be such a sissy. It's not like you haven’t done this before."

I sighed. I really didn’t wanna, but I didn’t have much choice in the matter. I took a deep breath and opened the door ... and then I stepped into the cool evening air.

It felt weird padding barefoot across the stone pavers toward the fish pond at night; the floodlights cast odd shadows, creating a sense of eeriness that raised gooseflesh all over my bare body. The glaring lights didn’t just light up the landscape; they illuminated my pale, pink form as well, literally putting me in the spotlight as I wandered through the garden. I was unnerved to see my shadow cast a silhouette at least ten foot in height against the trees and the garden wall, following me wherever I went. I easily imagined a hundred eyes focused on me with just as many tongues wagging their jeers and mocking comments about how silly I looked in my birthday suit.

“Geez, why did she have to turn on those stupid lights,” I muttered to myself. “The way things have been going, somebody’s going to see me for sure!”

Despite my fears, feeding the fish went all right. Rather than rush through the process like I usually did, I gritted my teeth and endured Mrs. Taylor insisting that I do it properly and throw in the food little bits at a time. She had put that in the instructions she wrote out for me to follow during her absence, but to tell the truth I usually just tossed in the whole cup at once and watched the fish scramble about and fight over the morsels. Doing it her way – the “right way” – was actually kinda fun, even if it meant standing around for a long time while this strange woman stared at my naked body.

“Good job, little fairy,” she said in a playful voice. “Keep up the good work and perhaps I’ll give you back your clothes. Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not!”

Once the fish were sated, my hostess drew my attention to the various sculptures that surrounded that particular part of the garden – as if I needed a guided tour! Ha! She paused by a pair of angels that looked like they were whispering to one another. Partially draped in loose hanging robes, their breasts and bare bottoms were shone in the harsh glare of the lights.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time out here with my naked friends, haven’t you?” She looked down at me with an amused expression. “I asked you a question, David. Please answer me.”

I nodded, then croaked, “Yes, Mrs. Taylor. I, um … I guess I did.”

She laughed. “Well, I can’t blame you. I do the same. Quite often, in fact. It never gets old.” There was a moment of silence. “So, what do you think of my little art collection? And don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I know young boys like looking at naked women. I expect a simple, honest answer”

I just shrugged and mumbled something like, “They’re okay, I suppose.”

“You suppose they’re ‘okay’?” My captor laughed. “They’re more than okay, my little fairy. They are amazing works of art, so peaceful and beautiful, it takes your breath away.”

Mrs. Taylor casually made her way over to the statue of Venus and slowly looked it up and down, kind of like how she’d done when she first saw me on the patio. She reached out and touched the carved stone hair, letting her fingers linger over the bare shoulder and down along the smooth arm in the process.

“She’s wonderful, isn’t she? My husband bought this for me a long time ago during a trip to Europe. She’s quite expensive, but she was worth every penny. Would you like to touch her?”

I shook my head. By then I was dying to go pee and I was trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. A lot of good that did, considering the amount of squirming I was doing at that point. Mrs. Taylor ignored my discomfort and motioned for me to come closer. She gave me the once over with her eyes, this time with a bit more scrutiny than before. It was all I could do to keep from jumping in the fish pond and hiding under the water.

“Go on. Touch her. I know you did it before, when you thought nobody was looking. Show me how you did it. You won’t get punished if you do, I promise. But if you don’t, weeellllllll ….”

I gritted my teeth, then nodded. I shyly stepped up to the statue of the naked Venus and stared at her for a moment. I didn’t know exactly what I was expected to do. I thought long and hard, then I reached out and put my finger on her belly button, pulling it back immediately as if I’d touched a hot stove.

My hostess laughed. “Oh, now the little fairy is all bashful and shy! How adorable! Okay, lover boy. I understand. Let’s go look at something more your size.”

She then led me over to the opposite side of the pond. My stomach ached as we approached the boy cupid. My head spun as realized what was about to happen; I tried to think of a way out of this next embarrassment, but I came up with nothing.

“Hmmm … I bet you really like this little fellow, don’t you, pretty boy?” My mother’s friend grinned. “Ah, yes, you do, don’t you? There’s that sweet, deceptive little smile. I see it, so don’t bother trying to hide it.”

She pushed me toward the statue and stood back. She seemed to be studying both me and my stone counterpart. She also seemed to approve of what she saw.

“The resemblance is amazing,” she said with unexpected sincerity. “The two of you make a very pretty pair. I can see why you’re so attracted to him.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I said hoarsely. I hated standing naked next to that thing, especially in front of my mother’s friend. It was like standing too close to another naked boy. It just felt plain weird.

“I … I promise. I didn’t do nothin’.”

Mrs. Taylor smiled. “Nobody said you did. Do anything, not ‘nothin’.’ But you’re acting guilty about something. Let me guess, you touched him, too, didn’t you? Just like you touched the pretty lady statue, didn’t you? Oh yes, there it is! I can see it in your eyes! You touched him. Come on, admit it. Don’t lie to me, little fairy.”

I paused, then nodded.

“Yes, b-but ... but I didn’t do anything wrong, I promise,” I whispered hoarsely. "I promise, Mrs. Taylor, I didn't!"

My employer sighed. “Just as I thought. All right, show me exactly what you did. Remember, I've got cameras out here as well. If I find out you’ve misled me, you lose the game. And you know what that means. I get to call your mooo-therrrrr."

Faced with my hostess’ quiet but firm ultimatum, I did as I was told. It's kinda hard to not do what someone tells you when you're naked.

Feeling extremely self-conscious, I stepped before the life-sized cupid sculpture and I carefully reached out and I touched him. Right on the belly button, just like I did the statue of Venus. I pulled back and stood silent and nervous about what might happen next.

This time the bullying woman refused to let me get away with a mere single touch.

“Mmmm, not good enough, pretty boy,” she said with mock disappointment. “Try again. And don’t be so coy about it. Show me where else you touched him. Show me exactly what you did. Go on, do it. Now!”

I sighed, then moved closer to the petrified boy. I reached up and touched his shoulder. I glanced up at Mrs. Taylor. She nodded.

“Okay, and then what? Come on, little fairy. Show me where else you touched him. And I mean everywhere.”

Slowly and reluctantly, I touched him on his arms, his chest and belly. I looked up at my hostess, hoping desperately that I had met all the requirements.

“You’re not being honest with me, David.” Mrs. Taylor raised a skeptical eyebrow, her lips pursed as if she was not happy with my performance. “There’s no sense in acting dumb. Remember, I already know what you did. I just want to see if you will tell me the truth. Do not leave anything out.”

I thought for a moment, then I sighed. Oh yeah ….

My face burned and my hand trembled as I touched the marble child’s back and let my finger trace down along his bare bottom. I paused for a moment and took a deep breath … and I looked up at my mother’s friend. She watched me carefully as I then fingered his nipples, one by one.

“Don’t stop. Go on. Do it ….”

I closed my eyes in a moment of prayer, then opened them. A smug, victorious smile spread across Mrs. Taylor’s movie star face as I reached down between the sculpted boy’s thighs and lightly caressed the tip of his little marble penis with my finger. I felt so many butterflies in my stomach I thought I was going to throw them all up.

“Hmm, that wasn’t so difficult now, was it?” My tormentor took a sip of wine and nodded. “I can imagine you weren’t quite so shy when you thought nobody was looking, were you, my little fairy?”

I felt my face burn so hot, I thought my entire head was going to go “pop” like in the cartoons.

“So, what did that feel like?" My hostess' voice was light and cheery, like she was having the time of her life. "Was it fun, touching him like that?"

My face burned hot with shame. "No," I muttered angrily.

"Oh, you little liar! You loved doing that and you know it, didn't you?"

I shrugged and just stood there. There wasn't much else I could do.

"Tell me the truth, David. Is this something you've done with another boy? Or maybe you wish you could do it with another boy?” Mrs. Taylor looked at me for a moment, then gave me a knowing wink. “You’re being awful shy, my little fairy. Don't worry, your little secret is safe with me.”

“No! I do not!” I fumed. “I haven’t and I don’t and I don’t wanna! That would be gross!”

I was near tears, I was so mad! I mean, I couldn’t believe my mother's friend could be so mean to me! Sure, I knew even then what I was doing when I was alone was a little weird, but to hear someone – especially one of my mom's lady friends! – articulate my actions in such an offhand manner, that really scared me!

My employer clearly enjoyed the agony she’d inflicted with her comments, which made me feel even worse. When she saw how upset I was she gave a sophisticated, delightful laugh, one that mocked any semblance of sympathy.

“Oh, don’t look so horrified, David. There’s nothing wrong with a little affection between friends. I think it’s rather cute. Maybe we’ll have to get you a real live playmate to share your secrets with. I wonder where I can find another pretty little fairy? Maybe you have a friend in mind …?”

I wiped my eyes and tried not to think about what I just heard. I thought I knew what she was saying, but I didn't know for sure. And I didn’t want to know for sure. Some things were just too embarrassing to think about.

***

I thought we were at the end of the game, but instead of heading toward the patio Mrs. Taylor guided me toward a trio of little statuettes; they were miniature cupids, the kind that look like fat little babies with wings. Old and gray and weathered by the sun, they stood hand in hand facing a patch of brightly color flowers illuminated by the harsh spotlights.

“Do you still have to pee?” my hostess suddenly asked.

I blinked my eyes in confusion. Where did that come from?

"Don't look so dumb. It's a simple question. Do. You. Still. Have. To. Pee? Yes or no?"

“Yes ma’am … I mean, yes, Mrs. Taylor.” I gave an eager nod and a pleading look toward my captor. “I gotta pee something terrible!”

She smiled an evil smile. “Good. My jonquils need watering. You can take care of that for me, can’t you, my little fairy? These cuties here used to spray them all the time, but there’s something wrong with the system. You can just do it for me instead.”

It took me a moment to realize what she was saying, but after looking at the little cupid statues and how their weathered stone privates were aimed at the flower bed, I got it. You’d think my face was red enough, considering all I’d gone through up to that point. But no, I definitely felt a new wave of heat rise to my cheeks.

“You mean … pee on your flowers? Right here? Right now?”

Mrs. Taylor grinned. She was really enjoying herself at this point. “Of course right here, right now. Where else would you do it? Not in the fish pond, I would hope!”

“But ….” My mouth went dry. I really had to go, but not like this! “Mrs. Taylor … I can’t … pee … in front of you. Please, don’t make me!”

“I’m not making you do anything. You need to pee, my flowers need watering, and I just asked you to do me a favor. It’s all right. I happen to know that flowers just love fairy pee. You’ll be fine.”

I frowned as the pretty woman laughed; she was having fun at my expense and she made no attempt to hide her glee. That made me so mad, I could feel the tears burn my eyes.

“I can’t do it! I don’t wanna do it! And I’m not going to do it!” I crossed my arms in defiance.

My hostess shrugged. “Fine, then you can just hold it. Let’s see how long you last. We can stand here all night if that’s what it takes. I love being in the garden at night. We can do this all night long.” She shot me a sly smile. "Or at least until your mother comes looking for you."

Well, I relented, of course. What choice did I have? I had to go so bad a sharp pain ached inside my body. I nodded my head. Mrs. Taylor directed me to stand with the little cupid statues in the middle the patch of flowers.

“Go ahead, let loose, little fairy,” she sang sarcastically. “Pee away to your heart’s content. Just make sure you keep it all on the jonquils. They could really use the rain.”

I stared at my mother’s friend for a moment. She was smiling with a light in her eye like she was having fun with me. Too much fun for an adult woman to have with an eleven year old boy.

“Oh, David, don’t be so bashful. You’ve been complaining all night that you had to pee. Now’s your big chance. Pee now like a good little fairy … or forever hold your pee!”

I clasped my hands together and gave my employer a pitiful smile. “Mrs. Taylor … um … please don’t look at me. Please?”

My employer laughed. “Why not? Do you think I haven’t seen a fairy pee before?”

I pursed my lips. “Yeah, but … well … it’s really humiliating if you're standing there watching me,” I croaked hoarsely.

“Not for me it’s not.” She drained the last of her wine from her glass. “Nope, that’s not my problem. Not at all. We can just wait here until nature takes its course.”

Of course I did it. What choice did I have? It took me a few minutes, though, between my mother’s friend staring right at me and my erection not cooperating. I squirmed and I fidgeted and I squeezed my thighs together – making sure not to touch my penis with my hands, of course! – and finally the flow began. I was peeing and it felt so good, so wonderful, I almost forgot this pretty woman was just a few feet away, studying my every move and mood as I emptied my bladder and rained down on her precious flowers.

“Just look at that sweet little smile,” my captor said as I gushed all over the bright yellow blossoms. “You little hypocrite! You're loving this, aren't you? After all that whining and complaining, you’re really enjoying yourself!”

I winced as I realized I was smiling. I didn’t mean to; it just … well, you know how it is when you’ve been holding back on peeing for so long, when you finally let loose and it’s the best thing in the world? That’s what I was experiencing. And I guess the reason I was smiling so much.

“I’m not liking this,” I said in as serious a voice as I could muster. “It’s really embarrassing, having you watching me. It’s not fun at all!”

Mrs. Taylor laughed. “Oh, stop it! I saw that big grin on your face. You’re loving this. I ought to make you water all of my flowers this way. I bet you’d just love that, too!”

I was suddenly struck by the mental image of myself running around in Mrs. Taylor’s home, going from plant to flower pot, peeing in each one. What a ridiculous and frightening picture that made! I made a pouty face as I also imagined this strange woman following me around and criticizing my every move.

“I wouldn’t like that at all,” I squeaked as I continued peeing.

"Such a liar." My hostess sighed. "And such a pretty fairy. And all this time … such a work of art, right in front of me … hidden in plain sight ….”

The peeing went on for another minute or so. That was such a strange experience, doing something so private, so ... dirty ... in the presence of my mother's friend. The relief I felt combined with the embarrassment, and a masochistic thrill grabbed hold of me. Mrs. Taylor was right, of course; it did feel good. And having her watch me was like getting a taste of a forbidden fruit. The problem was, almost as soon as I finished peeing, the excitement I felt reenergized my body and my penis rose up stronger and happier and more erect than ever!

“Good lord, child!” Mrs. Taylor said in amazement. “Can’t you control that thing?”

I looked down at my treacherous penis, then up at my employer. I shrugged helplessly and no doubt with a big dumb grin on my face. “Sorry. Can’t help it.”

She gave a little chuckle and ruffled my hair with an almost motherly affection. “It looks like someone is having themselves a really good time. Imagine that.”

***

Once we were back in the house Mrs. Taylor closed the patio door and locked it. She refilled her wine glass and then turned to look at me. I resisted the temptation to cover my privates. Thus exposed, I felt extremely self-conscious, as if I was supposed to be saying or doing something.

After a moment or two she took a sip and nodded. “Well, don’t just stand there looking pretty. Put away your things and go to the bathroom and wipe your little thing. I don’t want it dripping on my good floor. And wash your nasty hands, for pity’s sake! You’ve got three minutes, then meet me in the living room.”

I arrived in the living room in less than two minutes, my hands and face freshly washed and, well, yes, I made sure I wiped the tip of my penis so as not to offend my employer. I'd never done that before and it felt kind of a weird thing to do.

I was disappointed to find that my ice cream – sorry, my gelato – had completely melted into a sticky, gooey mess. I thought about asking if I could eat it anyway when my hostess made the strangest request. Well, it wasn’t as much as a request as a command.

“Go stand up on the coffee table,” said Mrs. Taylor.

I looked from her to the table and back again, not quite sure what I was hearing.

“Go on, my little fairy, step on up. You did it yesterday so you can do it again today. I can see what you looked like doing it on television. I want to see what you look like in real life. Don’t be shy … and try not to fall down.”

My hostess nodded toward the television. I was surprised to see that it was still on and displaying the frozen image of me standing on the coffee table. Funny, I’d almost forgotten about that. She must have left it on the entire time we were outside. Talk about weird!

And speaking of weird, it felt really weird as I put my bare foot on the table – the same as I did on the television screen – and stepped up and took my place in the middle. The last time I did this, well, that was for fun. It was weird then, but in a completely different way.

“Like that, Mrs. Taylor?”

I looked at my captor awkwardly, not knowing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. She had an amused look on her face as she seated herself in the antique wingback chair she’d used before. For some reason I was reminded of how an evil queen might look sitting on her throne of power, just like in my father’s adventure magazines.

“Oh yes, that’s fine. Just perfect,” she replied in a mocking, almost rude voice. “Now stand there until I tell you otherwise. Can you do that for me, pretty boy?”

And so I did. Stand there, I mean. It was an extremely unnerving experience. This time instead of facing my imaginary friends, I was on display for my mother’s friend, a real live woman whose interest in me was as intimidating as it was creepy. Knowing that she could see a televised version of myself doing the same thing at the same time was even more disturbing.

What was even weirder was how I could see myself looking back at me from the various mirrors that decorated the living room walls. I’d seen my reflection before like this – standing on that very same table, looking all cute and helpless – but that was in private when I was having fun, not with one of my mother’s friends sitting just a couple of feet away and staring right at me. This time it was not any fun. Nobody was supposed to know about any of this and now my secret little fun game had turned into a horrible nightmare; the look of absolute shame on my face in the mirror was obvious.

“Wake up, little fairy!” Mrs. Taylor said suddenly. “Do me a favor. Put your hands behind your back. Just like you did the last time you stood up there and thought you were alone. Go on, you know what I’m talking about.”

Her eyes flickered upward, locking in on mine. Once again, I did as I was told, though it was with great reluctance. With my hands clasped behind my back I felt like I was a prisoner on display in one of my stupid little fantasies. Only this time it was real. And I hated it!

This was about the time Justine showed up from wherever she’d been napping. That stupid cat homed in right on me, jumping up on the coffee table and rubbing her thick furry body against my feet and legs. Despite my nervousness I could hear her purr. Even I had to admit that the touch of her fur felt nice against my bare skin.

“Hmm, it looks like the David Cartwright fan club has just arrived,” teased my employer. “That kitty really likes you, doesn’t she?”

Before I could say anything – not that I could think of anything to say – Justine settled down and took up residence on the table, sitting upright just inches in front of me. Her eyes were focused on my stupid erection, her expression excited and expectant. She’d done that countless times before when it was just the two of us in the house; I’d thought it was cute and funny then, but for her to act that way with Mrs. Taylor looking on, that was the worst!

"Wiggle it around some," my hostess ordered. "You know, to entertain your little audience."

I blinked, not quite sure what I just heard.

"Don't play dumb, David. You know what I mean. Wiggle your penis for us. Justine is waiting for you to put on a show for her."

I pursed my lips and did as I was told. I turned my entire body left to right and back again a few times, then bounced up and down with my knees. My erection followed suit, bobbing about like some strange thing with a mind of its own.

Is this really happening? I thought to myself.

That silly cat immediately locked in on what I was doing, of course. Her eyes followed the tip of my penis as if was prey; a mouse or a baby bird wouldn't have distracted her from the ridiculous little show I was putting on.

“Oh yes, that's perfect! Miss Justine just loves our little fairy.” My employer laughed a very ladylike laugh, her voice musical and uplifting. "She just adores your precious little thing. Be careful you don’t hurt her feelings. Us females have sharp claws.”

I just stood there with a stupid embarrassed look on my face. I mean, come on, what else could I do?

My interrogator got up from her seat and casually walked around the coffee table, her eyes going over every inch of my nakedness. That was really scary, especially when she moved in close to look me in the eyes or reached out and caressed my curly hair; I felt a shiver sweep over my entire being when she lightly ran a single finger over my shoulder and down my bare back. It was like she was appraising a piece of art she was interested in buying. It was very intimidating to be under such close scrutiny, let me tell you!

“Mmmm … such a pretty little fairy … you’d make a lovely statue in my garden, do you know that?”

For the next few minutes Mrs. Taylor walked around me, looking at me over her wine glass, her eyes repeatedly running up and down my unclothed body; her leering face revealed her enjoyment of my obvious discomfort.

“So, David ... are you having a good time so far?” She swirled the wine in her glass, then gave it a sniff. “Is this as much fun as playing your naughty little games in secret by yourself?”

“No,” I shyly whispered.

“No what?”

I sighed. “No, Mrs. Taylor.”

“Well, too bad, so sad,” she said, her face alight with mischief. “I am having a wonderful time. There’s nothing like enjoying a little wine and looking at pretty … things.”

I felt a wave of heat rise in my cheeks. Being called a “pretty thing” sounded … strange.

“So tell me about your cute little boobies,” she said in a flippant, almost rude manner. She reached out and gave each of my swollen nipples little flick with the tip of her finger. “You don’t see those on boys very often. Where did those come from?”

I was shocked! And not just from getting my nipples flicked. I mean, I was used to getting teased by the guys at school about my boy boobs, but not by a grown up. Hearing my mother’s friend talk about them so casually made me extremely self-conscious. As if being naked in front of her wasn’t bad enough.

“I can’t help that I have them.” I covered my chest with my hands as I choked out the words. “The doctor said they’ll go away one of these days. It’s not my fault I got them. It just … happened.”

Mrs. Taylor laughed. “Nothing’s your fault, is it, little fairy? You say that an awful lot. Don’t be so defensive. I think they’re adorable. If you didn’t have that useless little piece of gristle between your legs you’d make a very pretty girl.”

Well, you can imagine how that made me feel. I’d always thought being stripped naked and teased by some beautiful woman would be fun; I never thought it would be quite this hurtful in real life. I mean, I was just a sixth grader, so what did I know? Getting criticized and teased by an adult woman was almost more than I could handle.

My tormentor drove on with her questions, each more rude and intrusive than the last. “Do any of your boyfriends have any hair between their legs, or are they all like you and smooth as a baby?”

Holy crap! Talk about being caught off guard! I couldn’t believe she asked me that! What a weird question to be asked. Then again, my situation was pretty weird, too, I guessed.

“Come on, David. You can tell me. It’s a simple question and I know you know the answer. Speak now or forever explain all this to your mommy.”

She had to bring up my mom again. Why did she have to do that?

“I asked you a question, David. Do your boyfriends have hair down there?”

“I, uh, guess they do. Most of them, I suppose.” I rolled my eyes and sighed. “I can’t help that, either. The doctor said ….”

“Oh, I don’t care about the doctor.” Mrs. Taylor smiled. “Tell me more about your boyfriends. Are their penises as small as yours, or bigger? Come on, you can tell me. I won’t tell anybody you’ve been looking!”

“Do we have to talk about this?” I asked in a whisper. “It’s really embarrassing.”

“I don’t care what you think. I asked you a question. Is your little weenie bigger or smaller than your boyfriends?”

I squirmed where I stood. “I … I … dunno.” I lowered my eyes. “Smaller, I guess.”

"Well, I am impressed! It takes a big man to admit he's got a little penis."

My hostess chuckled at her own joke, but I didn't think that was very funny at all.

“Oh, don't act so grumpy. You know what’s really funny? Getting you to admit that you know all about your boyfriends’ penises. You know how much hair they have down there, you know how big they are. You know all sorts of things about their privates. That explains why you like touching my little cupid statue between his legs. You’re obsessed with your boyfriends' penises!”

“I am not!” I croaked. By this time I was practically hyperventilating, I was so upset. “And they’re not my boyfriends! Stop saying that! They’re just boys … who are my friends. And I don’t like their … things. You’re the one who asked me about them … and now you’re just mixing things all up to make me feel bad!”

I pursed my lips, then took a deep breath. I was so mad, I felt like screaming. I started to say something else – I have no idea what – when Mrs. Taylor interrupted.

“You know what you look like up there, David? Standing on my coffee table, with your puny little dingaling sticking out and your fat little bare bottom showing?”

I blinked back my tears and shook my head.

The pretty woman bared her teeth. “You look ridiculous. You look like a foolish little boy who got into something he shouldn’t. You thought you could get away doing something naughty, something you thought nobody would ever find out about, and you got caught. And now you’re paying the price and you think you regret it. That’s what you look like. Is that what you feel like?”

This time I nodded my head. I really needed to blow my nose.

Mrs. Taylor shook her head slowly as she spoke, her voice calm and clear and precise. “This isn’t my doing. It’s all yours. You thought it would be fun pretending to get naked and get looked at by pretty girls and women, didn’t you? And now … it’s not what you expected, is it?”

What could I say? It was like she had read my mind. I nodded again, then stared down at my bare feet, which wasn’t such a good idea as that meant looking at my stupid, double-crossing penis.

“Maybe I ought to call some of my friends and have them come over to see you. It wouldn’t take me ten minutes and I can have this entire house filled with all sorts of girls and women, all here to look you over. I know lots of girls who'd love seeing a naked boy. What do you think would happen then? Do you think that would be fun? Hmm? Hmmm? Is that what you’d like me to do?”

This time I shook my head so hard that my curly hair got stuck in my eyes. I blinked a couple of times because of the mixture of hair and tears that flooded my vision.

“Oh, goody! He’s a crybaby, too. How sweet! A pretty fairy who likes to run around naked and then cries when he gets what he wants. Isn’t that just marvelous!”

Well, that didn’t help matters at all. I held back a little bit, but then I broke out and just sobbed like a little baby for a minute or two. It took all I had to regain my composure.

“Aw, don’t stop crying,” the bullying woman said, her voice sweeter than syrup. “I love watching little fairies cry. They’re so adorable and their tears are so yummy!”

“I’m not crying,” I muttered. “I’m not anymore.”

“Too bad, so sad.” My tormentor laughed. “I’m not worried. I’m sure you’ll cry again before the night is over.”

Mrs. Taylor then surprised me by producing a box of tissues from the side table and handing it to me. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose and did my best to look dignified, which is pretty silly when you're completely naked.

"Are you done?" she asked. I nodded sheepishly. "We'll see," she said with a little smirk.

After helping put away my snotty tissues and everything else back in place, I returned to my position in the middle of the coffee table. I also put my hands back behind my body so I wouldn’t get yelled at again.

Without a word Mrs. Taylor picked up the remote and went back to watching that stupid video. She settled back in her seat, wine glass in hand, and otherwise ignored me. This was so sudden, so confusing, it took me a couple of seconds to realize what she was doing.

There was some noise from the television and I could see the flickering light from the screen reflect in her face. I tried to look and see what was so interesting, but that only earned me a scolding.

“David, did I say for you to turn around? Did I say for you to watch television? I don’t think so. Turn back around and face me and keep still. And keep those hands behind your back! Don’t you dare move a muscle until I tell you otherwise!”

Feeling more than a little bit scared, I did as I was told, resuming my position with my hands clasped behind me and my unclothed body exposed to her view. That positioned me perfectly to see my reflection in the mirror directly behind Mrs. Taylor’s chair. I winced to see how helpless, how pitiful I was in my state of naked captivity; it was almost like looking at one of my father's adventure magazines!

“That’s a good little fairy,” my mother’s friend said, her voice mocking and a little bit cruel. “Naughty little boys must learn to do as they are told.”

I stood on that table for several long, excruciating minutes, my hands clenched together behind my back, my plump, pink body helpless and vulnerable. Meanwhile, my captor continued to watch the recording from her security cameras. I was dying to see what she was seeing but I didn’t dare turn around again. She left the volume up – on purpose, no doubt, to tempt me – but there was very little noise except for when my recorded self occasionally spoke to the cat or said something silly.

“Are you spying on me, Miss Justine?” I heard my tinny voice at one point. “You’re going to tell Mrs. Taylor on me, aren’t you? You better not or I’ll get in all sorts of trouble!”

That one-sided conversation seemed to amuse my captor. She actually laughed out loud when my televised self said, “Miss Justine! Please, stop looking at my tallywhacker! That’s rude!”

I rolled my eyes at that last one. I didn’t have to look down to know that at that very moment my penis was sticking out, happy and dumb, just like on the television. I could have died! If only the stupid thing didn’t think this was so much fun.

Mrs. Taylor raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “A tallywhacker? Really? Is that even a real word?”

I shrugged. An embarrassed grin took over my face; it was either that or start crying again.

“Oh David, you are one silly, silly little boy,” my employer said. “I could watch your little adventures all day long.”

For the longest time nothing else happened. I just stood on the coffee table while Mrs. Taylor practically ignored me in favor of the television and her wine. On occasion she would glance up and give me a wink, but for the most part it was as if I was just another piece of art in her living room. Sometimes it looked like she was looking at me, but to be honest I couldn’t tell if she was doing that or looking past me. She was either daydreaming or thinking or something. Whatever it was, it creeped me out!

After a while she shut off the television. I thought perhaps she was going to let me step down and maybe even go home. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest in a very serious manner and nodded at me.

“Turn around, David. Very slowly. Keep turning until I say stop.”

I did as I was told. Shuffling my feet an inch or so at a time, I pivoted to the right, I think, just a bit.

“Like this?” I asked.

“No. Stop it. You’re doing it wrong. Go the other way. And do not say another word. Don’t say anything until I tell you to speak.”

Again, I did as I was told. And again, I was told to stop.

“You’re still doing it wrong. Go back the other way. And move in smaller increments.”

Smaller increments? I sighed. That wasn’t easy; I eventually shuffled my feet a little bit at a time, almost like I was part of a clock or some animated animal act on a stage at the amusement park.

My employer smiled. “That’s better. Keep at it. Don’t stop until I tell you.”

I hated this. It was unnerving, having to do such a stupid task while this grown woman, my mother’s close friend, stared at me. It was like I was reliving some horrible nightmare.

That's when it occurred to me: that was exactly what had happened! I looked over at the darkened television. She had just seen me doing ths very exact thing on that stupid recording! She knew what I had done and now she was making me do it again!

Good grief, I thought to myself. She's just making me do stupid stuff I've already done to myself. How messed up is that?

I was startled when my captor gave a sudden laugh. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, pretty boy? Tell me the truth, you’re loving it, aren’t you? Hmm? Hmmm?”

I shook my head in earnest. In turn she shook hers in a mocking, bullying fashion.

“Oh please, David, don’t even bother. You’re such a poor liar. You may think you’re not having a good time, but your body tells me otherwise.”

I glanced down and, sure enough, my erection was sticking out in full bloom, as if it craved the attention; likewise, I could see that my nipples were likewise standing up under my captor’s lewd gaze. I so wanted to put my hands over my privates and my breasts, it almost pained me. It didn’t help that Justine was still sitting at my feet, watching my every move with intense interest.

“I’ll be back. Keep turning. And don’t go anywhere.”

I watched with confusion as Mrs. Taylor suddenly left the room. Justine took off with her, presumably to see if she was getting more food. I guessed "seafood delight" was more interesting than my erect penis.

The two were both gone quite a while, long enough to become a worry. Mrs. Taylor hadn’t told me to stop, so I did as I was told and kept turning about in a slow, unsure circle; I was afraid to do anything else.

During her absence I could have sworn I heard her talking on the telephone. Well, I heard voices, so I assumed she was on the phone; maybe she was talking to the cat. Either way, I prayed desperately that there was nobody else in the house. I probably would have died for real if there were.

When Mrs. Taylor returned she had another glass of wine and a small book in her hand. Ignoring me completely, my hostess sat in her chair and set up residence for the evening. Justine did likewise, jumping up on her lap and curling up for another nap.

"Um, Mrs. Tay- ...."

She cut me off before I could get out another word.

"Did I tell you to say anything? No? Did I tell you to stop turning? No? Then keep on doing what I asked and don't stop until I say otherwise. And do not speak another word."

That was more than a little scary. Scary enough for me to do as I was told. I remained on the coffee table, doing my silly little routine -- turning around and around and around -- for a good thirty minutes before my hostess said a single word. I knew it was that long because I could hear the chiming of the clock in the dining room; it rang every fifteen minutes and it had done so at least three times since my being scolded. I passed the time by reviewing in my mind everything that had happened since arriving earlier that evening; I eventually decided this had to be the worst day of my entire life.

Pretty smart for an eleven year old kid, huh?

A little after the clock chimed the third time my captor told me to stop moving. I was never so happy; I was worn out from turning around and around who knew how many times, my arms were tired from being twisted behind my back for so long and I really wanted to get down and into my clothes. A stern glance told me that my ordeal was not quite over.

“So, how are you feeling, my little fairy?” Mrs. Taylor asked. “Are you finally enjoying yourself? Is it fun standing up there looking all sweet and adorable for the pretty lady and her cute little kitty?”

“No, Mrs. Taylor,” I croaked. "It's not very fun at all."

“Mmmm, maybe we can make it more fun for you. Do you know how to dance?”

I blinked. What kind of question was that?

I was about to find out.

To be continued ….

(End of File)