A Very Tully Christmas 10

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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A Very Tully Christmas

By David

The characters in this story are based on my series, Marlene and the Boy Next Door, which you can find at http://www.asstr.org/~puericil/david.html

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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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Part Ten

Irma Tully was one happy woman. And why shouldn’t she be? It was Christmas morning and all of her dreams were coming true. Holiday music was in the air, the smell of baked goods and Christmas candles permeated the air, and the room was awash in the fairy tale lighting of a warm fireplace and a radiant, gaily decorated Christmas tree. Dressed in her “Mrs. Santa Claus” costume, she struck an absurd but imposing presence as she fluttered about the room like … well, like a child on Christmas morning!

Key to the matronly woman’s happiness was the peculiar creature in the middle of the room. At first glance it appeared to be a life-sized doll, pale and pretty, decorated with gigantic sparling wings attached to its back and a sparkling tiara of silver and rhinestones atop its head of curly blond hair. Caught in an oddly graceful yet awkward pose of modest grandeur, the fairy-like figure was clad in the merest trace of a gossamer gown, leaving nearly all of its naked body on display to the gleeful Mrs. Tully.

“So pretty … so sweet,” murmured the happy woman. “So adorable … so lovely … and to think, he’s all mine ….”

He? Well, yes, if one paid attention – which would have been nigh impossible to avoid, given the singular circumstances of that particular day in that particular room – a visitor might have realized that the impish shape in the middle of the room was not a toy at all, but in fact a living child, a boy, judging from his exposed genitals peering from the junction between a pair of chubby thighs. He was prepubecent, age twelve, barely on the cusp of becoming an adult; with smooth, hairless skin and soft, graceful curves, his developing body looked on the verge of going either way, masculine or feminine, with a leaning toward the latter. Girlish breasts with cherry-like nipples swelled under the delicate chiffon and the round, fleshy bottom was perfectly framed by the trailing edge of the fairy wings and the lace hem of the skimpy gown.

“What a lovely day,” Irma Tully sang cheerily. “Isn’t this just the bestest Christmas day ever, princess? Hmm? Isn’t this just the bestest ever?”

The blushing boy fairy slowly nodded, then shrugged his naked shoulders, causing his cartoonishly large wings to shimmer and shake as if they were living parts of his body. Nervous and unsure, like a young deer trapped before a hungry wolf, the scantily clad lad twisted his cherubic face into a shy smile designed more to please his guardian than reflect his true feelings.

“Yes, Nana, this is the best day ever,” Samuel Oliver responded with forced enthusiasm. He tugged at the uncomfortable strap that held his wings in place. “It’s been a lot of fun so far. A lot more fun than I thought it might.”

The buxom babysitter grinned at the effeminate child. She knew perfectly well that he was being less than truthful, which was normally a punishable crime under her roof. Telling fibs and lies while in the care of Irma Tully typically earned her young charge a ferocious bare-bottomed beating ... and sometimes much, much worse.

But this time his deceit was forgivable. With every word that came out of his mouth, young Samuel had to choose between what he was expected to say and what he really wanted. Speaking his mind only brought more grief and embarrassment; both grandmother and child knew that. The flustered boy found himself in the precarious predicament of having the lie in order to please his sadistic sitter. Better to pretend to enjoy his shame than to fight it.

It doesn’t matter, Irma Tully thought happily. He’s slowly learning that Nana knows best. It won’t be long before he’ll see the light. Then he’ll be telling the truth when he says he loves Nana's silly little games!

After a fairly exciting and taxing photo session with her gaily dressed grandson as the subject matter, Irma Tully decided it was time for the beleaguered boy to settle before the Christmas tree and open the rest of his presents. The morning had gone much better than she expected, but time was running short and there were things to do, places to go and people to see.

“Settle down, princess. I know you want to have your fun, but there are still more presents to open. You can play your silly sissy games later when we have more time.”

With a wicked smile spread across her face, the bosomy bully handed Samuel a large box beautifully wrapped in slick white paper and decorated with an enormous red velvet bow.

“This one is from Nana, baby doll. All morning you’ve keep whining about getting something pretty to dress up in, so this ought to suit you perfectly. It’s a little reward for making your old Nana so happy. Go on, open it up. You’re going to just love it!”

The wary child made a frowny face as he stared at the mysterious box; with his rhinestone tiara atop his curly blond locks he looked like a fairy tale nymph contemplating a inexplicable puzzle.

“But, Nana, I just wanted some clothes to wear. I didn’t say that I wanted something pretty to dress up in. That’s not what I meant at all ….”

“That doesn’t sound like someone having fun,” Mrs. Tully cooed in a sing song voice. “That sounds like more whining from somebody who wants his fat little bottom paddled with Nana's hairbrush. Again.”

The youngster stopped talking, which was a shame. The mischievous matron loved his protestations and she used them again and again as an excuse to tease and humiliate him. This time Samuel chose the path of discretion over valor. Maybe he was ready for the next stage in her little game.

The old woman sipped at her cider as she watched her pretty grandson kneel down and go through the tedious process of unwrapping his present. She had to smile. He moved slowly and carefully, favoring the inflamed flesh along the backs of his thighs. The poor thing was in such pain from his earlier spankings, his hands were actually trembling as he struggled with the layers of tape and paper; by the time he got the box open he was practically hyperventilating.

At one point Samuel looked up at her, a wistful look on his cherubic face. His hand lingered over the name of the department store printed on the top of the box.

“This isn’t a dress, is it, Nana?”

“A dress?” Mrs. Tully giggled and her eyes lit up with utter rapture. “Why, Samuel Oliver! Why in the world would you say that, baby doll? What makes you think your mean old Nana would get you a pretty dress for Christmas?”

The frowning child sighed. “It’s just that ….” He looked down at the delicate gown that adorned his body. “Aw, never mind.”

The plump matron chuckled. “You know what I think, baby doll? I think someone has been snooping through his Christmas presents when he thought his Nana wasn’t looking. That’s what I think.”

Samuel’s eyes went wide and a look of fear covered his face. He started to say something, but then pursed his lips. The twosome sat in silence as the confused child stared at the unopened box for moment. He finally looked up, his eyes shiny and pleading.

“This isn’t really a dress, is it, Nana? Please say it isn’t! Pleeeeeeeeassssssse …?”

The old woman gave him a wink and shrugged. “I guess we’ll know pretty soon, won’t we.”

The youngster sighed. He then took a deep breath as if to bolster his courage. With trembling hands he set aside the lid and paused before going any further.

“Please don’t let it be a dress,” she heard him whisper as he rifled through the tissue paper. “Please don’t let it be a dress … please don’t let it be a dress … don’t let it be ….”

Oh, how precious, Irma Tully thought to herself. The poor little thing is setting himself up for such delicious disappointment. What fun!

The delightful woman watched with fascination as Samuel parted the crinkly paper to reveal a bright burst of crisp white tulle dusted with sparkling red glitter. Next came a glimpse of rich, blood red velvet, then a splash of shiny satin. An expression of horror formed on the child’s otherwise cherubic face.

“Awwww, not a … a dress,” he moaned. “Nanaaaaaa … you actually bought me a … g-g-girl’s d-d-dress?”

The gleeful grandmother clucked her tongue. She loved seeing Samuel squirm. It was her greatest pleasure in life.

“No, baby doll, it’s not a girl’s dress. We’ve been over this before, remember? Just like that is not a girl’s gown you’re wearing, that is YOUR gown. Soooo, that is not a GIRL’S dress – that is YOUR dress. It’s your Christmas dress! Isn't that exciting?”

Samuel looked up in horror; he looked so cute, Irma had to fight the urge to take him in her arms and hug him to death.

“That’s not what I mean, Nana!" the worried child exclaimed. "I mean, you bought this from a girl’s dress shop, right? So it was supposed to be for a girl. And now you want me … to wear? I mean … I can’t … wear ….”

The plump woman giggled; the madder Samuel got, the more joy she felt. There was nothing like teasing a little boy, especially when it came to questioning his masculinity.

“What’s it matter where I got it, baby doll? What matters is how much you like it, right? Soooo, don’t you just looooove it? You’ve been talking about getting a pretty dress all morning to cover up your bare bottom. I’d think you’d be thrilled. I got it especially for you to wear on Christmas. What’s the matter? Don’t you LOVE it?”

“But that’s not what I meant ….” The frustrated lad didn’t know what else to say, which the bullying babysitter found most delightful.

Indeed, Samuel Oliver’s new Christmas dress was a marvel to behold. Although Irma picked it out herself and even put it in the box and wrapped it up, she still wondered at the sweet little frock in his hands, her excitement as great as it was the day she first saw it. It was a fancy party dress, the kind any girl – or a pretty little sissy boy, perhaps – would just beg to wear. Perfect, in her opinion, for a life-sized dress up doll like her precious Samuel. Consisting of a red velvet sleeveless top with a wide red satin belt and a short, broad flaring snow white tulle skirt, it was the kind of bright, attention getting thing a young lady might wear to a church Christmas function. It could even be used to show off a certain young lad at a party, a Christmas party, perhaps.

She encouraged her grandson to stand up and hold his new outfit against his body. The red velvet bodice and the flared skirt with its stiff white material and sparkling red glitter gave the garment a childlike – mmm, no, make that a child-ISH – appearance. Irma thought it went perfectly with her grandson’s long curly hair and feminine features. The look on his face at the moment, she gleefully noted, was one of utter despair.

The happy babysitter clapped her hands and squealed with delight. “Oh, baby doll, you are going to be simply gorgeous in that! I should have put you in something like this a looooong time ago! Seriously, what fun we could have had … and what fun we’re going to have! Quick, go look in the mirror and see for yourself. You’re not going to believe how adorable it looks.”

Despite his earlier display of enthusiasm and excitement, young Samuel looked completely demoralized at the prospect of dressing up in girl’s clothing. Mrs. Tully, of course, was delighted to see his reaction and she giggled like a school girl as the forlorn lad sadly padded barefoot over to the mirror, his outlandishly oversized fairy wings fluttering with each step.

Oh, what joy, the evil matron thought greedily. I can’t believe how much fun this is! Really, Irma, you should have done this from the very beginning. See how easily he’s falling into our little trap? Shame on you for depriving our little dolly of such a wonderful opportunity. We are going to have so much fun, I don’t know if we're going to be able to stand it all!

The wicked woman watched with amused curiosity as Samuel gathered up the courage to raise his eyes and look at himself. She gave a little laugh when his eyes immediately went wide with surprise! The look on his twelve year old face bordered between shock and awe; his mouth opened up in a perfect “O” of utter bewilderment. He tried to look away, but it was obvious he could not take his eyes off his reflection.

“Such a darling boy, so sweet, so pretty,” she said aloud to no one in particular. “And he’s all mine ….”

As much as she was looking forward to seeing her adopted grandson in the juvenile looking dress, Irma Tully had mixed emotions about giving him anything at all to wear. Not that she didn’t think he would look good in his pretty new clothes, oh heaven’s no! No, as far as she was concerned her little baby doll was destined for ruffles and frills and all of the things that went with them. She could hardly wait for him to open up the rest of his gifts so she could see his expression when he realized how serious she was about the little dress up game they were about to play.

I wonder which version of his new self he’ll want to play, she thought to herself. Will he pick the red and white one, or will he pick something else? More important, I wonder if he’ll dress up willingly, or will he put up a fight?

The bosomy matron licked her lips. Oh, she certainly hoped it would be the latter! That would be quite the treat if he decides to cross me, would it not? To apply her hairbrush on that plump, pink butt once more, tears and a show for Christmas! Oh, what fun that would be! No matter how things proceeded, it would be her great pleasure to see this beautiful boy go from a rough and tough soldier’s son to a frilly, demure dress up dolly.

“Such a pretty little boy,” the deceptively cruel babysitter sang softly. “His Nana’s precious toy ….”

Yes, there was little about Samuel Oliver that his grandmother didn’t approve, not even his crude boyish ways or his rebellious manner. After all, what kind of fun could she have if it wasn’t for a little challenge every now and again? Not that Irma ever needed an excuse to paddle his plump, perfect bottom or slap that sweet cherubic face; those were things she never had trouble doing. No, it was always a bit more entertaining when you came upon a challenge, to have to overcome problems and work out solutions.

The red and white Christmas frock was not the last – nor the least! – of Samuel’s girlish gifts. Irma directed Samuel to open a pair of accompanying packages, revealing a bright red short-sleeved sweater and a pair of white ankle socks trimmed in red lace to complete the ensemble.

“I’m not wearing that dress,” the pouting child muttered under his breath. “I’m not wearing any of these stupid things!”

“What was that, baby doll?” Mrs. Tully held a hand up to her ear, again in her trademark dramatic fashion. “You don’t sound very happy happy happy. What’s the matter, darling? Aren’t you having fun fun fun?”

“I was just ….” Samuel bit his lip and thought before he spoke. “I … I’m … you’re not seriously going to make me wear these, are you Nana? I mean, I don’t really have to wear that dress and all of this other stuff, do I?”

“Oh, of course not, sweetheart! I’m not going to MAKE you wear anything. You don’t HAVE to put them on. Not at all. It’s up to you if you want to wear your pretty new dress. If you’d rather just run around with your bare bottom hanging out and play fairy princess all day long, that’s just fine with me. But that is entirely on you.”

Samuel thought for a moment. Irma Tully loved watching her grandson’s face whenever he was trying to think. It was like watching a little mouse trying to penetrate an inescapable maze.

“So, if I did wear this,” he said carefully, “would it just be here around the house? I mean, I wouldn’t have to go anywhere dressed up like a girl, would I? ‘Cause I don’t want anybody seeing me looking like a girl.”

Irma laughed. “Sweetheart, you can wear whatever you want, wherever you want, whenever you want. You can dress up in your pretty new clothes and parade down the middle of town as far as I'm concerned. Or you can do it in your birthday suit if you like. That’s all up to you!”

She paused for a moment, then added, “Just remember, Nana likes little boys who don’t argue or complain. Naughty boys who do argue and complain get their bare bottoms beat. Nana's hairbrush has plenty of beatings left in it. It won’t take much for me to put it across your fat little posterior.”

The cherubic face before her flushed bright red. Samuel lowered his eyes and sighed.

“Yes, Nana. I won’t be naughty. I won’t argue or complain anymore, I promise.”

The mischievous matron giggled. “Of course you won’t, baby doll. Of course you won’t ….”

***

Twelve year old Samuel Oliver’s Christmas got more and more confusing as the morning went on. The gift giving continued and with each present came a new embarrassment, a new worry. That awful fairy costume he wore was bad enough, but when he saw his grandmother had given him a stupid girl’s dress, well, that was enough to make him sick! The idea of dressing up as a girl, in real live girl’s clothes, and parading around the house acting like a stupid girl, that was the worst thing he could ever imagine. I mean, he was boy, darn it, and everyone knew boys didn’t do things like that! Right?

Right???

But then again, boys didn’t dress up as silly sissy fairies on Christmas mornings and dance about with their bare bottoms hanging out for their grandmothers. Nor did they run around the house in their birthday suits doing chores and women’s work, either. At least no boys Samuel Oliver knew.

So what did that make him? Was he a boy or a girl ... or something entirely different? He didn't feel like a girl, whatever that meant. He was pretty sure he was a boy. He looked down to see his limp penis as it lay asleep and unaware between his chubby thighs. Okay, so he obviously wasn't a girl. Girls, to his knowledge, didn't have wieners and balls down there.

So what am I? Oh, that's right ...

"I'm my Nana's sissy boy ...."

Samuel sighed. Why is it always me, just me, the baffled lad pondered as he knelt in the midst of the largest pile of feminine things he’d ever seen in his life. Why does this crap always happen to me? Why can’t I just have a normal life ... a normal Christmas, like everybody else?

Why?

Why indeed? Our young hero had every right to ask the question. As his morning progressed – though “progressed” might not have been the exact word he might have used – the packages he opened revealed even more girlish things, things that he would have never in a thousand years thought he’d ever be given, much less be expected to wear. The onslaught of presents took forever, but a wide-eyed Samuel finally got them all unwrapped and spread across the room. Even after staring at them for at least five minutes – not saying a word, but just staring, staring … staring – he still could not believe what he saw.

Everywhere he looked there were dresses! A party dress here, a princess gown there, and a prissy little girl style frock yet over there! There was that frilly little yellow and white concoction so fluffy and sickeningly sweet that looked like a lemon cupcake covered in layers upon layers of creamy icing. Next to it was a delicate ballet style gown with a fluffy tutu for a skirt, all in lavender and decorated in sparkling sequins. There was a childish sailor-style dress and a skimpy flower print frock and a tiny white party dress trimmed with pink roses and lace. All told there were seven in all, one for each day of the week, or so said Samuel’s sadistically cheerful babysitter.

“Merry Christmas, baby doll!” Irma Tully sang in mocking voice. “Aren't these the best gifts ever? Aren't you the luckiest boy in the whole wide world?"

"No! I'm not lucky and these are the worst gifts ever! I don't want to wear any stupid dresses!"

"Nuh-uh-uh! Don't be such a party pooper! You’ve been whining forever about having something to wear instead of your adorable little birthday suit. Your mean ol’ Nana listened, of course, and decided, you know what, he’s right! My little baby shouldn’t have to run around all the time in his bare skin. Especially not in the winter time! So, you finally got your wish, baby doll! Now you’ve got all sorts of fun things to wear when you don’t want to go around in your birthday suit!”

“But … girl’s stuff,” the bewildered boy croaked. “Why, Nana? Why?”

“Uh-uh! This is not ‘girl’s stuff,’ baby doll. Remember, this is YOUR stuff. It’s all for YOU! Every pretty little dress and accessory … nothing’s too good for my pretty little sissy boy.”

“All … for me.” Samuel looked up at his grandmother, his expression one of utter disbelief. “But, I can’t wear all of … any of ... these things. It’s too much. It’s too much ….”

Samuel did not know what else to say. He was afraid to say much else for fear of being labeled a “party pooper” and risk getting another beating. And so he knelt silently on the floor encircled by a treasure trove of brightly colored frocks, dresses and gowns of all shapes and styles. Each of the outfits he received that glorious Christmas morning looked so small and juvenile, like something a first or second grader might wear; sitting in the midst of so many frilly little girl outfits, he felt out of place and quite foolish.

How much did all this stuff cost, he wondered. Some of these dresses look really expensive. I can't believe she expects me to wear all of this stuff. I mean, I really don't want to wear any of it!

The poor boy’s head spun, there were so many colors and textures surrounding him, he didn’t know what to think! It wasn’t just how his new clothes looked, but how they felt. Some things were soft and fluffy and hardly weighed anything; others were stiff and scratchy and dense. Then there were the little buttons and hooks and bits of lace and eyelet trim that were like icing on a cake, adding to the alien quality of each and every outfit. Samuel ran his fingers across the scattered silk roses that decorated the front of the petite white party frock; it all seemed unnecessarily elaborate and silly. Why would anybody want to wear such nonsense? Why would anybody make such a thing?

That old witch really thinks I'm going put on one of these dresses, he thought fearfully. I’ll … I’ll just … die if she makes me wear any of this crap! I’ll just die!

FLASH!!!

There was that stupid camera again. Mrs. Tully laughed as she pulled the developing picture from its slot and waved it about.

“You look so sweet in the middle of your pretty new outfits, I had to get it on film. Oh, don’t look so scared, princess. Later you’ll be glad I did.”

FLASH!!! Another picture was taken … and another and yet one more. The dejected lad smiled for each frame, doing his best not to break out in tears. That would be playing right into his babysitter’s hands and he wasn’t about to let her see him getting upset. Well, not now, at least.

The one outfit that hit Samuel the hardest was more of a costume than an actual dress. It even said so on the box it came in: “Deluxe Child’s French Maid Costume – Be The Cutest Housekeeper At The Party!” A photo on the lid showed a pretty little girl happily posing in a short black dress with a little white apron and lace trim. A frilly lace headpiece sat atop her head and she held a fuzzy pink feather duster in her hand. Samuel looked up at his grandmother, started to say something, then frowned.

“Well, what are you waiting for, baby doll,” the smiling woman cooed. “Take it out and let’s get a look at your pretty new costume!”

The pouting lad looked like he was about to cry. “Do … do I have to? You’re not going to make me put it on, are you?”

“Do you want another session with my hairbrush?”

Shaking his head, Samuel slumped his shoulders and muttered, "No, ma-am."

The nervous boy found the maid’s costume to be as frivolous and childish as he feared. The little black velvet dress and tiny satin apron felt cheap and flimsy in his hands, but it looked quite fancy for a simple store bought costume. The dress had short puffy white lace sleeves and lace trim around the apron and the hem of the skirt; the fragile lace was also sewn around the collar, which was low in both the back and the front.

Samuel looked from the dress in his hands to the box. The words “French maid” bothered him. His mind went back to the times Mrs. Tully made him do chores around the house clad in nothing more than a pair of panties and an apron. Sometimes she even made him do them in the nude, which wasn’t much fun.

That’s the worst, he thought with a shiver that shook him from head to toe. Doing chores naked. Especially when that stupid Marlene or that ugly old Mrs. Haggard show up. Gah, I HATE that!!!

For an instant the confused child pictured himself dressed in the little black maid’s costume, just for a moment, running the vacuum and cleaning the kitchen. Another cold shiver went down his spine. Would this be better than going naked? Would dressing up like a … a girl ... a servant girl … make things better? How would wearing a stupid dress to do chores be better than not wearing anything at all?

“So … I’m supposed to wear this, too?” he asked softly. “Like when I do stuff around the house or whatever?”

Mrs. Tully smiled. “You can wear it whenever you like, baby doll. Yes, it would be perfect for when you help Nana with the housework. And how about all those times when Nana has visitors, like Mrs. Haggard? Or even our friends from church? You’re always whining about us old ladies staring at your cute little bottom. Now you can help me entertain our guests without a worry!”

Samuel nodded. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, especially whenever his grandmother had company. He really didn’t like Marlene and Mrs. Haggard looking at his naked body. Like it said on the box, it was just a stupid costume. So … maybe wearing a costume wouldn’t be THAT bad. Right?

Right???

Samuel didn’t want to say anything else. Too much was happening too soon. He needed time to think.

There were still a few packages left to open. One box held several frilly underwear tops that were definitely not meant for boys to wear. Some had little pink rosebuds sewn into the front while others had yellow or blue decorations. Each had images of flowers or fairies or animated creatures embroidered on the front. One was adorned with the words “I love my mommy” and yet another said “I love my Nana.”

“Great. Stupid ol’ girl’s t-shirts.” The forlorn boy shook his head and sighed. “I know, I know, they’re not girl’s t-shirts, they’re mine.”

“Oh, you silly thing, you’re only half right,” the grinning woman explained. “Yes, they are yours, but they are not t-shirts. These are called ‘camisoles.’ Pretty girls and sissy boys wear them under their pretty dresses when they go out. And since you are now the proud owner of your very own pretty dresses, we had to fix you up, right?”

Samuel shrugged. “Yes, ma'am,” he grunted with a complete lack of interest. “They’re okay, I guess.”

The bare bottomed lad expressed a bit more enthusiasm when he opened the next package.

“Puh- ... p-panties?” he exclaimed, his face contorted with confusion. “You got me g-girl’s p-p-p- ... p-panties?”

“See, Nana Claus knows what pretty little boys want for Christmas,” Mrs. Tully said in a deceptively loving voice. “And lovely, oh so pretty panties are always at the top of the list. I suppose you’d like to try on a pair?”

Between his emotions and the possibilities in his hands, Samuel was overwhelmed. The package contained several pairs of girl’s briefs, all very delicate and frilly, in a variety of colors ranging from white to pink to a pale yellow. His heart raced as he sorted through them. He was eager for something to put on over his exposed bottom and privates, but this was not quite what he wanted. Still, he wasn’t entirely displeased.

No one would ever know, he thought to himself. I could try them on ... just one pair, maybe. And nobody would ever have to know ....

The baffled boy looked up at his grandmother and gave her a sheepish grin.

"Oooo, I thought you'd like those," the wicked woman sneered. “Go ahead, baby doll. You know you want to try them on. Don’t be shy. Nana won’t laugh. Try them on. Go on … you know you want to ….”

Samuel’s face burned hot with shame. He didn’t want to seem too eager, so he nodded, not too much, but just enough. Mrs. Tully smiled and raised a mischievous eyebrow.

“But before you do you have to ask, baby doll. Ask Nana if can try on your pretty new sissy panties.”

The red-faced child let out a nervous giggle combined with an equally anxious sob. He was not entirely surprised by his grandmother's directive. He didn't like it in the least and he hated her for saying it. But he wasn't at all surprised.

"Nanaaaa, don't make me do that. Please? This is embarrassing enough as it is."

The bosomy bully winked. "You want to wear the pretty panties, you have to follow the rules."

Samuel sighed ... again. “C-can … I … Can I try on a pair?” he whispered reluctantly.

“A little louder, dear. Nana’s ears aren’t as good as they used to be.”

He sighed, causing the gigantic fairy wings attached to his back to rustle.

“Can I try on a pair?” he said in a much louder voice. “Please?”

Irma Tully smiled. “May I …?”

“MAY I … please …?”

“May I what?”

Once again, the frustrated boy sighed. He knew what his babysitter was doing. She did this all the time. She was trying to make him say and do the most embarrassing things possible. It was a little game she liked to play and she always played to win. There was no escaping it; he should have known better from the beginning.

In a clear and loud – but not too loud – voice, he made his request formal and undeniable: “May I try on a pair of … you know … panties, Nana? Please? Pleeeeeassssse?”

“What kind of panties?”

Samuel wanted to scream. Instead, he took a deep breath, let it out … and spoke in a polite and soft tone with just a hint of sobbing in his voice.

“Pret- … p-pretty panties.”

"Don't you mean pretty SISSY panties?"

There was that nervous, pitiable giggle again.

"Yes ma'am. The pretty sissy panties."

Irma Tully chuckled. “So what are you asking me? Come on, princess. Say it … saaaaaaaay iiiiiiiiit ….”

With a red face and a crooked smile, the flustered child did as he was told. By this time he squeaked more than he talked.

“Nana, may I please try on a pair of pretty sissy panties? Pleeeeeeeasssssse?”

“One more time. And a little louder, please.”

“MAY I PLEASE TRY ON A PAIR OF PRETTY SISSY PANTIES? PLEEEEEEEASSSSSSE?”

The bosomy bully laughed, causing her gigantic breasts to wobble from left to right and back again. If Samuel didn’t know better he’d have thought she was doing it on purpose.

“Of course you may try on your pretty sissy panties, baby doll,” she said with a girlish giggle. “All you had to do was ask nicely. Bring them here, please. Nana wants to pick out your panties for you.”

The red-faced boy did as he was told. He watched with a combination of shame and curiosity as his babysitter made a show of flipping through the assortment of undies, fondling them and examining them as she would some rare jewels.

"Such pretty sissy panties ...," she sang in a childish voice. "... pret-ty sis-sy paaaaaannn-tiiiiiiiieeeeessssss ...."

At last Mrs. Tully picked out the ones she wanted, a pair of skimpy white lace, looking no larger than a small handkerchief. A tiny white bow decorated the eyelet waistband in the front, giving them a most juvenile appearance. She held them put before the wary child, who was directed to step into them one leg at a time. The sensation of thin material sliding up his thighs and slipping over his bare bottom and covering his privates was pure heaven!

I’m not naked, Samuel thought in near rapture! I’m not naked anymore! Yay!

“Oh, how pretty!” purred the bosomy bully. “They are perfect for you! And they look perfect with your sweet little fairy costume! Quick, go look in the mirror!”

Samuel did as he was told. She was right, the panties did look perfect with the chiffon gown and fairy wings he wore; more important, he was delighted to see that, except for a little bump, his privates were no longer visible. Oh joy! How he hated the very sight of his penis and balls, and he hated the idea of other people seeing them as well, even if that other person was his grandmother. And now he didn’t have to see them … and they couldn’t be seen by anybody else!

Privacy at last!

The problem was, of course, that Samuel’s new undies only made him look all that much more like a girl. Still adorned in the skimpy chiffon gown and sparkling fairy wings, the reflection before him was a feminine and dainty as any girlish image he’d seen in his life. Even knowing it was him beneath the curly blond locks and rhinestone tiara, it difficult to deny that the fairy-like doll thing in the mirror was a real live boy. He didn't look anything at all like the twelve year old aspiring astronaut-soldier-baseball star he thought he was. Funny, what a little bit of nylon and lace can do. Still, the sensation of having his privates covered and knowing that they were out of view was worth it.

See, it’s not so bad, he told himself. Maybe this really is better than going around naked. It sure feels better. Well, kinda … sorta. You just gotta go with the flow. Be grateful you’re not naked any longer. Just pretend to have some fun and it will all be over in a few days ….

“These are Nana’s favorite. Come take a look.” The plump woman held up one of the pairs of panties. Samuel was amused to see this particular pair was decorated with Santa’s face on the front. “So, what do you think? Aren’t they just the funniest things you ever saw?”

Samuel nodded. He started to say something to ingratiate himself with his babysitter, but then a thought occurred to him – as silly as the Santa panties were, they weren’t for anybody else. They were for him! He would be the one wearing them, and in front of other people if he knew his grandmother! A horrible image of himself in the awful undies, standing before his grandmother and her friends, flashed though his mind and he felt the blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Um, they’re nice, I guess,” he muttered reluctantly.

“Only nice? Oh, darling boy, they are wonderful! I thought they would be just perfect for you to wear with your red Christmas dress. Wouldn’t that be fun? Hmm? Hmmm?” The smiling woman gave him a playful wink.

To Samuel’s amazement, the gifts kept coming. In addition to his new underwear there were several pairs of shoes to go with his new dresses, including slippers of varying colors and three pairs of shiny T-strap pumps, one black, one white and a third crimson red. He noted with some irritation that the pumps all had little silver bells on them. He gave each a shake, producing a delicate jingle-jingle sound that was as silly as it was maddening.

There is no way I’m going to wear these, the flustered boy thought. No freakin’ way! Not once, not ever!

The pile of gifts was finally down to its last few. Samuel was shocked and surprised to find one package contained a shiny matching red purse with a gold chain strap. He stared at the girlish thing in his hands for a moment, blinking in disbelief. Dresses, shoes … panties … and a purse?

This crap is getting real, he said to himself. Why in the world would I ever need …?

“Don’t you just love your new purse,” Mrs. Tully purred. “We’ll have to find something to put in it. Who knows, maybe Santa hid some money in your presents somewhere.”

The plump babysitter ordered Samuel to stand up. She then insisted that her grandson slip on each pair of shoes and model them, just to see if they fit. He felt foolish at how awkward they made him feel; he stumbled across the room, clip-clop *jingle* clip-clop *jingle* clip-clop *jingle* clip-clop. They were just shoes, but they seemed to scare him as much as his new dresses did. The shiny T-straps caused him the most concern with their blocky heels and the little silver bells attached to the toes; the bright tinkling ringing tone was impossible to ignore as he clunked clumsily about.

“What’s the matter, baby doll?” the delightful woman made a silly pouty face. “You look like you have something on your mind. Do you want to try on one of your new dresses? Hmm? Is that it? Maybe you’d like to see just how sweet you’d look?”

The seventh grader nodded, then shook his head. It was obvious he was in the midst of a dilemma. Between his skimpy fairy costume and an actual girl’s dress, it was either the frying pan or the fire. Maybe he could stall the inevitable. After all, with a pair of panties on, his new fairy costume didn’t seem all that bad ….

“Um, not now, Nana,” he croaked in a hoarse voice. “Maybe … maybe later, okay?”

“Well, all right then.” The plump woman held out her hand. “If you’re not going to dress up then give Nana back your panties. We have to save them for when you’re wearing your pretty pretty sissy dresses. Come on, that’s part of the deal. Give them back … unless you WANT to put on one of your pretty pretty sissy dresses ….”

“Do I HAVE too?” the disappointed child whined. “I mean, can’t I keep them on for just a little while longer?”

“Not unless you’re going to put on a pretty dress,” sang the bosomy matron. “Put on a pretty dress and you can wear all the pretty panties you waaaaaaaannnnnt!”

As much as he was tempted, Samuel couldn’t bring himself to even think about wearing a girl’s dress. Not even after being coerced into wearing that stupid, humiliating fairy costume. Putting on a dress would be almost as bad – what if his grandmother decided to invited some of her stupid friends over and show him off? What if she decided to make him leave the house? What if she made him go visit that stupid Mrs. Haggard, or that stupid Marlene? At least dressed like this, with his bare butt and penis showing, it seemed unlikely she’d try to make him leave the house. Right?

Right???

“I really don’t want to wear a dress,” he muttered. “I don’t think that would be fun at all.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” the fat woman sang cheerfully. “For now hand over your pretty panties. No dressies, no panties!”

And so, as much as he regretted doing it, Samuel complied. He reluctantly slid the skimpy undies over his bare bottom and down his legs, stepping out of them and almost falling over in the process. After just a few moments of privacy, of having his meager genitals covered by the precious panties, he felt more naked than ever before. His hand trembled as he gave back the skimpy, delicate undies. A quick glance up at his babysitter’s face caused his own to flush with embarrassment.

“I know, wearing those awful things must have been just terrible,” she sang in a mocking voice. “Nana’s little baby doll must really like going about in his birthday suit. Him’s much happier letting it all hang out and showing off him’s pretty little bottom and him’s wee-wee to him’s Nana, doesn’t he?”

The laughing woman put her hand under Samuel’s chin, forcing him to look her in her in the eye. “You like Nana looking at your wee-wee, don’t you? Isn’t that right, lover boy? Hmm? Hmmm?”

The old woman cackled with joy as she folded up the panties and set them on the arm of her sofa. Samuel did his best to try not to cry.

***

Christmas wouldn't be complete without toys, of course, and between his mother and Mrs. Tully, Samuel received plenty. The problem was that they were just as inappropriate as the other gifts he received. The first set of toys he received was from his mother; he was shocked to see a pair of baby’s rattles, some simple alphabet blocks and several packages containing what looked like ... baby pacifiers?

What the fu- …?

The pacifiers in particular scared Samuel. There was several, their designs ranging from the usual on up; some were shaped like flowers, others like bows. One was shaped like huge red lips and another pink butterfly (or fairy?) wings. Still another had the phrase “I love my mommy!” with a little red heart in the middle. And, of course, one was decorated with a cheerful Santa Clause face.

“Oooo, how cute,” cooed the delighted Mrs. Tully when Samuel showed her what his mother had given him. “Those will go perfect for when you wear your diapers, don’t you think?”

“This is NOT funny,” the angry lad shouted. “Nana, I'm twelve years old, not a baby! And I'm a boy, not a stupid girl! I’m not playing with these stupid baby toys! And I'm not sucking a stupid pacifier”

The merry matron laughed. “Oh, baby doll, don’t be such a pouty puss! Your mama is just having a little fun with you, that’s all! I’m sure she doesn’t expect you to actually play with them … not unless you really want to.”

“It's not fun or funny! You all have been treating me like some sort of sissy baby and I'm tired of it! You can make me dress up like an idiot but I'm not playing with stupid baby toys! And I am NOT sucking on a stupid damned pacifier!”

SLAP!!!

A moment later Samuel was wiping tears from his eyes and nursing a red handprint on the side of his pale, plump face. Tears burned his eyes and he fought to keep from crying. He normally would have bitten his lip to stifle his sobs, but that was impossible due to the colorful rubber pacifier sticking from his mouth. A glance in the mirror showed it to be the one shaped like pink butterfly (okay, fairy) wings. A pink ribbon tied to the little plastic handle looped around his neck, making for a gay decoration.

“You’re going to have to remember who’s in charge, baby doll,” his babysitter said in a cheerful, sing song voice. “Nana was nice to you just now. If she has to remind you again it will be with her hairbrush. Is that what you want? Hmm? I can’t hear you, baby doll? Hmmm?”

Blinking through his tears, the contrite lad shook his head from left to right and back again. Mrs. Tully smiled.

“You can take your binky out to answer me, baby doll,” she chirped. “Soooo … who is in charge? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Samuel removed the babyish toy from his mouth. His voice was soft and meek in his reply. “You are, Nana. You’re in charge.”

“Good. I’m glad we have that behind us. Now, let’s have us some fun. Put your binky back in your pretty mouth and let’s open up the remainder of your presents!”

The chastened preteen did as he was told. With a smug look on her fat face Irma Tully raised a knowing eyebrow and nodded with grand satisfaction. Another victory to her credit, she savored the sight of the adolescent child before her, adorned in little more than a bit of chiffon, some costume jewelry and those outlandish fairy wings. A wave of satisfaction swept over her as she watched how obedient her young charge seemed, standing bashful and contrite, holding the babyish pacifier in between his lips and awaiting her next command.

“Now that we’ve got that settled, let’s have some more fun. Go ahead, princess, open some more gifts! Nana is eager to see what Santa brought you!”

Praise the Lord, I am a blessed woman, the merry matron thought as Samuel knelt on the floor and began peeling away at one of the gaily decorated packages. With the butterfly wing pacifier in his mouth and his naked body clad in such a childish costume, the fairy-like child looked more like a toddler than a middle schooler. Knowing that this breathtaking creature was all her doing – and that he was in essence her property for the next several days – filled her immense body with ecstatic joy!

“What a glorious day this is,” the delightful woman said aloud. “What a glorious day, indeed!”

***

Samuel Oliver had no idea what the rest of the day held for him, but he would be happy when the gift giving was over. So far it had not gone well.

There’s only a few packages left, so how bad can it get, he wondered as he worked diligently at removing layer upon layer of tape from yet another present. He glanced down at his nakedness, sighed and then shook his head.

Surely it can’t get much worse than this!

He soon had his answer … and he didn’t like it one bit. The next gift turned out to be a life sized baby doll, very realistic, wrapped in a fluffy pink blanket. Samuel was shocked when he opened the fancy department store box. He’d seen dolls all his life, but he’d never even touched one before. And now … he had one of his very own? How messed up with that?

“Go on, princess, it’s yours. Pick it up. It won’t bite you.”

The baffled lad looked up at his grandmother. She was watching his every move with great interest. He sighed. Picking up the doll, he was amazed to see how authentic it was, very heavy, with soft pink rubber skin that felt like the real thing, pink cupid’s bow lips not unlike his own and eyes that closed when you laid it down. He also realized it was naked under the soft pink blanket. Samuel felt uncomfortable holding the rubbery toy baby in his hands, and he tried not to look too closely at its little bare bottom and in between its chubby legs. But he couldn’t help himself; to his surprise he discovered it was a boy! It even had the correct genitalia!

That’s just plain weird, the crossdressed lad thought to himself. It’s got a little wiener and a sack. Just like ….

Samuel glanced down to see his own penis dangling between his legs. Yeah, this is too weird. Here I am, going around with my bare butt and my wiener sticking out … playing with a stupid doll that’s got a wiener of its own. I deserve this. Yep, it’s all my own fault.

I’m just a big fat sissy!

“So what do you think, princess?” Mrs. Tully cooed in that smarmy, sarcastic tone she so loved to use on him. “Don’t you just love your new dolly? A baby doll for my baby doll? Isn’t he cute? I bet you can’t wait to dwess hims up and feed hims and change him’s wittle diapers.

The bewildered lad didn’t know what to say. He thought for a moment and decided to take the safe road. He opened his mouth to speak and felt that godawful pacifier fall against his chest. The sensation of the pink satin ribbon around his neck made him blush with shame.

“It’s … it’s very nice, Nana. I, um … thank you …?”

A victorious smirk spread across his babysitter’s fat face. “I knew you’d love it, princess. You’re such a sweet little sissy boy, I just knew you’d want something pretty to play with and dress up. Oh, yes, the perfect gift for my pretty little sissy!”

Samuel nodded. “Thank you, Nana,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

“Don’t forget to put your binky back in your wittle mouthy wouthy, princess.”

The contrite child blushed. “Yes Nana.”

While his grandmother chatted on and on how cute he looked holding his “baby doll,” Samuel buried himself in the instructions that accompanied his new gift. Frowning beneath the fairy winged pacifier, he was both fascinated and alarmed to read that when the doll was fed a bottle of water it would wet its diaper. It came with the requisite diapers, of course, and there were several little outfits for it to wear. The weary boy noticed with some irritation they were all girl’s clothes, which he took as an additional dig at his own predicament.

"That ain't right," he mumbled beneath the babyish binky.

All in all, the dolly was a rather cute toy, just perfect for keeping a little girl occupied for hours on end. The only problem was that Samuel wasn’t a little girl. And he sure as heck didn’t like playing with dolls. The fact was, no twelve year old boy he knew ever played with a doll, much less owned one. But, in the spirit of cooperation, he kept his mouth shut, biting furiously on his pacifier as his babysitter teased him over his newest gift.

“Isn’t your new dolly amazing? Don’t you just love him? You can pretend to be his Nana and love on him just like I do with you! You can even tickle him’s wittle pickle if you want. Now doesn’t that sound like fun? Hmm? Hmmm?”

The stunned youngster looked at his grandmother with wide eyed horror. Tickle his … pickle??? Was she crazy? Did she mean what he thought? Did she mean like what she did to him in the bathroom? Did she think he actually wanted to touch his doll like that? Ugh! Why would he want to do that? Why would he even want to play with a doll in the first place, much less “tickle its pickle”?

Samuel bit on his pacifier so hard it was a wonder he didn’t cut it in two. He didn’t bother trying to reply to his grandmother’s perverted suggestion. Even if he wanted to say something he wouldn’t know what that might be.

The mischievous woman, of course, saw the horrified boy’s expression. She thought his reaction was quite amusing and she just laughed and laughed without a care in the world.

“Oh, don't be such a party pooper, princess. We're just having a little fun. There's no need to get upset. Let’s open the rest of your presents. We still have things to do and we’re starting to run a little late.”

There were only a couple of gifts left, thank goodness. A large mysterious package behind the tree turned out to be a stroller for Samuel’s new doll. The demoralized boy wasn’t completely surprised, though he was frustrated to be faced with such an offensive thing after spending so much time peeling away the ridiculous layers of tape and wrapping paper. He hoped – in vain, of course – it might be that new stunt scooter he’d been begging his mother for, but when he saw “From Nana to Baby Doll” on the tag he knew that was never going to happen.

A stupid baby carriage, he thought to himself. Gah, this is not getting any better! Old Lady Tully really is turning me into the worst kind of sissy! I may as well just give up. I mean, what’s the use of even hoping ….

Mrs. Tully put Samuel through the indignity of pulling his new gift from the heavy box and assembling it on the spot, no easy trick, considering how his silly fairy costume left him for all intents and purposes naked; at one point the tender tip of his penis rubbed against the corner of the coarse cardboard, causing him to squeal out loud in pain. After a bit of crying and dancing on his part, his grandmother insisted on inspecting his injury, of course.

“It’s all right, Nana,” he insisted. “It’s not hurt. It just got scratched a little bit.”

The mischievous matron would hear none of it, needless to say. “Nuh uh uuuuh, Nana has to check to make sure your wittle wee-wee is nice and healthy and undamaged. We wouldn’t want it to get infected now, would we? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Feeling the complete fool, Samuel had to go over to where his grandmother was seated and stand before her with his hands behind his back while she made a big deal about inspecting his “injury.” She cupped his exposed genitals with one hand and his bare bottom with the other, her playful touch causing him to giggle involuntarily.

"Nana, please don’t! That tickles!" he said, laughing nervously through the pacifier in between his lips.

“Um-hmmm … you silly little thing,” she sang sarcastically as she plucked and tugged at his penis, causing the poor boy no little discomfort and embarrassment. “I’m surprised at you, after all the fuss and muss you’ve made this morning, crying one minute, laughing the next. I wouldn’t have thought you were having quite so much fun.”

After a long, tedious examination of both his shiny “pink pearl” and his delicate balls – “just in case” – the bullying babysitter pronounced Samuel undamaged and fit to carry on. But before he could step away she pulled him close, pulled the pacifier from his mouth and gave him a lingering kiss on the lips. She then whispered slyly into his ear.

“Here, let Nana give that nasty ol’ boo-boo on your poor wee-wee another little kiss, just for good measure.”

The next thing the panicked child knew, the mischievous matron somehow managed to bend her immense form forward until she was face level with his bare belly button. She then pressed one hand against the small of his back and slid the other under his penis and balls. The plump babysitter glanced up at the horrified child with a mischievous smile and winked.

“A wittle kissy wissy on my wittle pwincess’ boo-boo … will make him feel sooooo much better, hmmm …?"

Samuel’s eyes went wide with fear. His mind raced a million miles a minute as he tried to decide what he was supposed to say … or do. A sense of deja vu caused him to freeze in fear.

She’s not really gonna … do that … again, is she? Please, don’t let her ….

The defenseless boy braced himself for the inevitable and he literally swooned as his babysitter's warm, moist lips at first brushed, then took in the tip of his tingling organ. He tried to pull away, but her grasp was far too powerful. He gasped in the bullying woman’s vice-like grip as she engaged him in a long and humiliating kiss between his legs; he could feel her teeth scrape the little “pink pearl,” as she called it, and her wicked tongue playfully flicking the little hole at the end. His entire body shivered in ecstatic confusion and she released him just as his knees were about to buckle.

"Oh gosh ... oh gosh oh gosh oh gosssshhh!" the panicked child exclaimed. “Oh gosh!”

“Mmmm, somebody likes Nana’s naughty kisses,” the large woman teased. “I think maybe my little baby doll is finally coming around to Nana’s way of thinking.”

Samuel looked down to see his boyhood erect and stiff, waving proudly from between his chubby thighs.

“I’m sorry … Nana,” he croaked. He was mortified at his situation, but he had no idea what to say or do. “I can’t … help it. It just does that ….”

Irma Tully laughed. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, princess. That was all Nana’s doing. Remember, it’s all right because mommies and grandmothers are allowed to touch little boys’ wee-wees. As long as YOU don’t touch it, everything will be just fine. You just let Nana know if you need her help in making it go away. After all, that’s what mommies and grandmothers are supposed to do, right?”

A rush of blood heated Samuel's cheeks as he recalled the agony and the ecstasy of his babysitter's touch. He knew he wasn't supposed to like when she did ... that ... to him. But it felt so good. So very good, indeed.

"Yes, Nana. I don't do it ... only you and ... Mommy are allowed," he said in a robotic tone of voice.

“Good! Now, put your binky back in your wittle mouth and get back to work!”

With a girlish giggle the bullying matron spun the trembling boy around and directed him with a hard slap on his bare butt toward the pile of presents under the Christmas tree. The sound of holiday music in the air contrasted with the tingling, stiff shame he felt between his legs. He tugged at his long blond locks and tried to remember what it was he was supposed to be doing.

Oh, right, setting up that stupid stroller ….

To be honest, assembling Samuel's new baby stroller was a relief in that he could lose himself in the task for a few moments and escape the horrible predicament he found himself in. Still, working with mechanical things in the nude was difficult. The dazed lad struggled to keep his mind on his work, but he found it impossible to concentrate, especially with his stupid penis sticking out all the time. Being kissed between the legs tends to be distracting to twelve year old boys; while on the surface it seemed like the nastiest thing in the world, there was a part of him that – well, let’s just say that part of him actually found the experience … not so bad.

What is wrong with me, he thought furiously in his head. I’m not supposed to like that kind of stuff! It’s nasty! Why in the world would this crazy old lady do that to me???

The befuddled lad looked down every few seconds to see his erection bobbing back and forth, forth and back, fully aroused and eager for attention. His entire body tingled with excitement, in fact, and his prepubecent mind was filled with all sorts of thoughts and questions as he fiddled and tinkered with the stroller.

She’s going to jerk me off again, I just know it, he said to himself. I hate when she does that. I mean, it feels good and all, but it’s just so embarrassing!

He paused for a moment and tried not to laugh at what he’d just thought. So what if getting jerked off by his grandmother was embarrassing? He pondered the situation he was in at that very instant, dressed like a bare-bottomed fairy, putting together a baby stroller. How could things get any more embarrassing?

Just let her do whatever she wants, he conceded. If she wants to do it, then just let her. There’s nothing I can do about it. I may as well just lay back and enjoy myself ….

At long last Samuel was done with his task and the new stroller was ready for a test drive. Mrs. Tully, of course, insisted that he put his new dolly in it and push it around the house like any proud little girl might have done.

“Don’t be shy, princess!” the happy woman encouraged. “Go ahead and have a little fun!”

Samuel sighed and did as he was told, delighting his babysitter and feeling quite the fool in the process. He placed the baby doll in the stroller and started pushing it, taking small, unsure steps in his bare feet. A quick glance in the hall mirror showed just how silly he looked. Stupid girly gown? Check. Stupid fairy wings? Check. Stupid dumb tiara? Check. Stupid baby’s pacifier? Check. Stupid baby in a stupid stroller? Check. Stupid embarrassing erection? Check.

Samuel sighed at the bizarre image in the mirror. If he didn’t fear getting another paddling so much he might have just laid down and cried.

Just go ahead and do it, the shamed boy thought sadly. Nobody knows, nobody cares. Just do it and she won't paddle your butt again. Nobody will ever know. Nobody will ever know ….

“Oooooo, princesss! You look sooooo sweet!” squealed Mrs. Tully. The delightful woman followed him through the house, laughing and teasing him every step of the way. “You know, I always thought you'd look cute pushing a baby buggy, but this is better than I expected! If I'd known it was this exciting we could have done it sooner. Think of all the fun we could have had last summer, going on long walks to the park and showing off your little baby dolly to your friends. Wouldn’t that have been a hoot?”

“No,” the mortified child muttered. His voice was muted behind the ridiculous pacifier in between his lips. “That would have been awful!”

“Uh-oh, you better watch out! Your being a party pooper!” Irma Tully winked and gave a little laugh. “Can't you imagine how marvelous it would have been if you had those pretty dresses to wear when you were staying with me? We could have fooled all of your friends into thinking you were a cute girl taking her little dolly on a nice walk. You would have tricked them all! That would have been so funny! And fun, too!”

For a moment Samuel imagined what it would be like if his grandmother had her way. He grimaced at the thought of appearing in front of his friends wearing one of those crazy dresses he’d gotten for Christmas; that would be almost as bad as showing up naked!

“Oh yes, that would have been so much fun!” squeaked the mocking voice behind him. “We might have to make that happen one of these days, don’t you think? Hmm? Hmmm???”

The effeminate child did his best to ignore his babysitter’s remarks, concentrating instead on pushing his new baby stroller around and around the small house, going from the parlor to the dining room to the living room and back again. He did his best not to cry or think about the cruel game he’d been forced into playing; best to just carry on and let the wicked old woman have her fun and not let it get to him.

Nobody knows, nobody cares. Nobody will ever know. Nobody will ever know ….

Samuel was so dizzy and drunk in his humiliation that at one point he made a wrong turn and entered the kitchen for the first time that morning. That was an eye opening experience, to say the very least; everywhere he looked the surprised lad saw plates upon plates of pastries everywhere! On the countertops and kitchen table and even on the stove there were dozens of cupcakes and cookies and pies and little finger cakes, too many to count. Each and every treat he saw was gaily decorated with bright Christmas colors and images; the red, green and white icing was so thick and scrumptious looking, he could not believe his eyes. The sight of so many tasty holiday treats was overwhelming to the youngster, so much that he actually found himself giddy with childlike wonder.

So that’s where that smell came from, Samuel thought to himself. This is amazing! When did she have time to bake all of these things? There are so many cookies and cakes and other goodies … I bet there’s enough to feed an army!

A sudden ache hit his stomach and the most awful gurgling sound worked its way through his naked body. It suddenly hit him that he hadn’t eaten breakfast; indeed, he’d been given two enema sessions since eating supper – if you can call steamed vegetables “supper,” that is – which meant his body was as empty as it could be. He put his hand on his plump belly to quell anymore rude noises.

There it was again, this time louder and clearer than before. Dropping the silly binky from his lips, the spell-bound boy gathered up his courage and tried to act as if all of this was normal.

“Wow … Nana … that sure is a lot of treats. They … they sure look good!”

The plump matron chuckled. “Don’t they, though? Nana worked on those while her lazy little boy was sleeping in late this morning. If you’d gotten up a little earlier you could have licked the spoon and bowls for me, but no, you had to have your beauty sleep.”

Samuel blinked. The thought of licking up all that yummy icing was enough to cause him to lick his lips. He thought about the evening before and the plate of nasty spinach and – ugh! – that awful steamed broccoli and cauliflower. All of it was unseasoned and barely palatable, a stark contrast to the sweet, enchanting aromas that wafted through his nostrils at the moment.

There was that growling gurgling again, along with a spasm of hunger.

“Uh-oh! I hear somebody’s tummy! Is my pretty princess hungry? Or maybe he needs another enemaaaaaaa???”

The half-naked child’s body suddenly went stiff with fear. Out of reflex he clenched his bottom cheeks together and tried not to think about the sensation of a rubber nozzle slipping up into his insides.

“Nooo … I don’t need another enema, Nana! Please, I promise! No more enemas! I … I’m just hungry, that’s all. I haven’t had breakfast yet and … well, all this stuff looks so good, my belly made some noise. That’s all it was. I promise!”

“Are you sure you don’t need another enema?” The old woman smiled. “Don’t be shy, baby doll. Nana knows how much you love getting your cute little rosebud cleaned out. All you have to do is ask and you can have one any time you want. We just love our enemas, don’t we, hmm? Hmmm?”

“Naw, that’s all right. No more enemas, please.” Samuel tried to act as nonchalant as possible. He then gave his babysitter his most innocent, his most loving, his most adorable and enthusiastic smile. “I am really hungry, though. Are we going to eat soon? Maybe just a little snack? I can’t wait to see how yummy all these treats are!”

Irma Tully gave her grandson a wicked grin as she picked up a particularly delicious looking cupcake and waved it under his nose. “It is a pretty little thing, isn’t it? Hmm? Hmmm??? And it tastes even better than it looks.”

Samuel watched as his babysitter stuck out her tongue and gave the top of the cupcake a little lick. She then licked her lips. He watched with more than a little confusion as she bent down, her plump, grandmotherly face close to his own. He knew what was coming and he let the pacifier drop from his lips. The purring woman then gave him a warm wet kiss on the mouth; his eyes went wide as her tongue darted in between his lips, swirling about the inside of his mouth and flirting with his own tongue. It took him a moment, but he eventually realized that his babysitter was sharing the taste of the sweet confection.

“Mmmm, that’s good icing, isn’t it, princess?” she cooed as she pulled away.

Samuel nodded eagerly, his stomach growling in the process. The buttercream flavor triggered the flow of saliva in his mouth and the rich aroma through his nostrils was intoxicating.

“Unfortunately I didn’t make enough cakes and cookies for my pretty princess.” The sadistic sitter puckered her lips and made a sad face. “Oh no, these are for the children down at the homeless shelter. I always make a huge batch every year and show up on Christmas day as Mrs. Claus and give them out to all the poor little boys and girls. They just love it and I love doing it. Doesn’t that sound like fun? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Samuel nodded his head. He then watched with disappointment as the delectable delight headed back on its platter.

“Maybe just one, Nana?” he asked sweetly. “It wouldn’t hurt to take just one, would it? Please?”

Mrs. Tully raised an eyebrow. Her facial expression made a subtle but effective transformation from warm and loving to cold irritation. She looked down her nose at the bare bottomed boy with a sneer and a glare of disdain.

“I am so ashamed of you, princess. I really am. You’re telling me that you would take food from a poor unfortunate child just to feed your fat little belly? Is that what you’re telling me? Hmm? Hmmm? Are you that selfish, princess? Are you? Hmmmm?”

Dazed and confused, Samuel felt tears of frustration burning his eyes. He glanced down at himself and hated what he saw. Half-naked, clad in a ridiculous sissy costume with fairy wings and tiaras, forced to act like a child half his age and to play with – YUK! – girl’s toys … only to be chastised and fussed at for being … selfish?

There was that gurgling sound again.

“Hmmm, I think maybe somebody really does need that extra morning enema. And probably a good butt warming, too … with my hairbrush!”

Samuel forced himself to look up at his hated adversary. He had to say something now or else suffer another round of humiliation at the hands of this awful woman. As he spoke he couldn’t help but be ashamed, even though he knew it was his only escape.

“I’m … I’m sorry, Nana. I was just asking. I’m not really hungry right now, anyway. Can I go back to playing with my dolly and stroller? Please? Puh-leeeeeeasssse? Dolly’s getting fussy and needs to go for another walk!”

Irma Tully looked down at the pleading child, her eyes narrowed and suspicious. All of a sudden she burst out with laughter! She grabbed Samuel and pulled him face first into the crevice between her breasts; there she held him in a tight, smothering hug until his arms and legs were flailing wildly about in a struggle for oxygen. Upon his eventual release she slathered his face, ears and neck with a barrage of sloppy wet kisses. She even planted kisses on his hands and up and down his arms, she was so excited!

“Oh princess! You are so full of surprises this morning! What a sweet thing to hear from such my pretty sissy boy! Of course you can play with your pretty little dolly! Go on, take him for another little walk around the house. But just one more time. We’ve got things to do, places to go and people to see.” A hard SLAP! on Samuel’s plump bottom – first one cheek, then another even harder one on the other – punctuated her sentences. “What a good little boy you are! Um-hmmm … Nana is so proud of you, it hurts!”

Whew, that was a close one, the relieved boy thought as he proceeded to push the toy stroller out of the kitchen and toward relative safety. If there’s one thing I don’t need now is having my butt poked or beat again any time soon.

There was that gurgle again. Samuel gritted his teeth as he waited for the inevitable offer of another enema, but it never came.

Still, I really am hungry, the baffled lad thought with more than a little hope. I sure hope I get some of these sweets. I mean, that’s what Christmas is all about, right?

***

Irma Tully was beside herself with joy. She hadn’t this much fun since she was a child. Warmed by her exertions, basking in the glow of her beautiful Christmas tree and its amazing lights, the plump woman was herself awash with the feelings of the season. All of her efforts, her hard work and creativity and imagination had paid off magnificently; despite her wickedness and cruelty, she was truly grateful for the glorious sight and sounds that befell her on the dawn of that amazing Christmas morning.

Her favorite activity of the day so far – well, they were all her favorites, but you know what I mean – was watching twelve year old Samuel Oliver patiently push that ridiculous baby stroller around the house, five, ten, a dozen laps or more. The poor boy looked so self-conscious, almost comical, as he paraded about before her in his skimpy costume, wings fluttering, his bare bottom bouncing in rhythm with every step and his little erect penis and ballsack bobbing about. It was hard to believe that this boy, nearly a teenager, had fallen prey to her little game.

Oh Irma, you wicked, wicked thing, the mischievous matron thought as she marveled at the sight before her. This poor child is so confused, he’ll never be the same when you’re done with him. Oh yes, my dear girl … you are truly blessed!

The grinning grandmother followed Samuel as he pushed his new stroller around the house until his body trembled with weakness. While she couldn’t quite see his frown behind the babyish butterfly winged binky, she could see the look of defeat in his face. Her energy, of course, was at an all-time high, adding to the poor lad’s misery with an endless flow of mockery and teasing remarks and patronizing looks.

“This is so much fun, isn’t it princess? Isn’t this the best Christmas ever? Look at all the wonderful things you got, your little dolly and your fairy costume and all of those pretty dresses! I bet all of the other boys you know never have this much fun.”

The bullying babysitter knew exactly what she was doing: she was draining Samuel’s morale at every turn, showering him with an incessant flow of comments designed to demean and emasculate him down to his very soul; in turn, she was stronger than ever, loving every moment of her grandson’s humiliation.

“Ooooo, I just bet your little girlfriends would all be soooo jealous if they saw how cute you look right now! And just think what they’ll think when they see all of the sweet little dresses you got for Christmas. My goodness, I bet all of your friends would just love it if they knew what you were doing right this very second!”

With a giggle she whispered, “Samuel’s a sis-sy … Samuel’s a sis-sy … Samueeeellllssss a sisssssss-sssssssyyyyy ….”

Irma knew full well how much Samuel hated being teased almost as much as he hated how he was dressed and what he was being forced to do. He probably wanted to turn around and give her a piece of his mind. She chuckled at the thought. She hoped he would lose his temper so she could use that as an excuse to paddle his bare bottom. Or best yet, poke it with an enema nozzle!

But, rather than give in to the temptation, the flustered boy obediently paraded about the house with his bare bottom showing and his fairy wings flapping, pushing the girlish stroller and pretending to enjoy his situation.

The old woman smiled. Now was the time to push him even further ….

“Do you know what would make this even more fun?” Mrs. Tully shot the effeminately attired boy an evil smile. “You should make up one of those sweet little songs, you know, like you did a while ago about your fairy wings. Isn’t that a wonderful idea? Go ahead, princess. Do it. Make up a cute little song about your new baby doll and your stroller. Do it. Do it for Nana!”

Samuel sighed. He opened his mouth to protest – dropping the wretched pacifier to hang against his chest – but hesitated.

“The next words that come out of your mouth had best be in a melody, princess. Anything else and it’s the brush for your fat little bottom and another session with the nozzle!”

The defeated child nodded. Irma watched with curiosity as he thought for a moment, took a deep breath … and started to sing ….

“All I want for Christmas is my baby doll,
my baby doll, my baby doll.
All I want for Christmas is my baby doll,
my baby doll, my baby doll.
All I want for Christmas is my baby doll
to keep me happy all day looonnng!”

The delighted woman clapped her hands and gave a most enthusiastic and authentic cheer. She was so enthusiastic, in fact, that she stood up and gave the author of that most juvenile and pointless song a standing ovation.

“Yay!” she squealed. “That was wonderful, princess! Absolutely marvelous! You have the prettiest voice … and you look so adorable doing that cute little dance! Oh, my goodness! What did I ever do to earn such a fantastic and amazing Christmas gift?”

Needless to say, Samuel was ordered to sing that ridiculously juvenile ditty over and over again as he pushed his new stroller about the house. Adding to his shame, Mrs. Tully “suggested” that he put an extra bit of pep to his step, putting his ankles to his knees in a childish march, singing the shameful song at the top of his lungs. The resulting show delighted the wicked woman, who marveled at the outlandish sight; it was a sissy parade of her own making, a spectacle far beyond any church pageant or televised Christmas special.

“All I want for Christmas is my baby doll,
my baby doll, my baby doll.
All I want for Christmas is my baby doll,
my baby doll, my baby doll.
All I want for Christmas is my baby doll
to keep me happy all day looonnng!”

My lord, I’ve got to have him do this for Gertrude, the delighted woman thought. This will make her day! Oh, fiddlesticks … it will make her entire year! This will be the funniest, most amazing thing she’ll see all season!

At long last Mrs. Tully finally had her fill of exercise for the moment and Samuel was called into the living room for another short photo session. FLASH! FLASH! FLASH! The smiling woman hummed a happy Christmas tune as she pulled photo after photo from the camera and waved them about until the pictures came into view. Not quite satisfied, she insisted on Samuel posing for several more, including a number of him pretending to march while pushing the stroller, singing and even holding his little dolly and hugging and kissing it.

“These are just wonderful! I can’t wait to show them to your mommy.” Her eyes suddenly lit up with excitement and she let out a little laugh. “Oh, I just got a wonderful idea for a photograph! Let’s try something ….”

The mischievous babysitter reached over and pulled back the leading edge of the child’s chiffon gown, revealing a bare breast. Samuel stood awkwardly as she guided the little doll toward his swollen cherry like nipple.

“Here you go, dear – put your little baby doll’s lips to your titty. That’s it, go ahead, just do it. That’s my little fairy princess … now hold still while I get the camera ready. Oh yes, that is perfect. Now don’t move!”

The baffled boy was confused at first. He looked down at the doll and he cringed to see its plastic lips pressing against his naked nipple. That’s when he realized what he’d been tricked into doing. He looked as though he wanted to throw the doll down and stomp it into the floor, but instead he just stood there and let his grandmother leer and gloat to her heart’s content.

“See what we just did? It’s just like when you suckle on Nana’s titty when you wake up in the morning. Only now you can let your little baby doll do it to you, too. Just like Nana! Isn’t that fun? Hmm? Hmmm?”

***

Samuel stood obediently as his babysitter showed him the pictures she had taken of him nursing his little doll. There they were, photo after photo of his most humiliating moment yet; she even got a few shots of his stiff penis sticking from between his fat little legs! It was the most ridiculous and obscene thing he had ever seen in his life, and he had been a willing participant. Later he’d wonder why he didn’t raise a fuss. The answer, of course, was that would have been the painful route. He chose to take the path of least resistance when his grandmother asked how he liked playing nursemaid with his new dolly.

“Yes ma’am, it did tickle a little bit, but it was pretty fun,” he replied automatically. He did his best to sound enthusiastic as he spoke, though his voice did tremble a bit. “Um-hmmm, it is just like when you do it with me. It’s lots of fun.”

Jesus, this is so stupid, the humiliated boy thought as his grandmother beamed with delight. Why did I SAY that? Gah! I’m just glad there’s nobody else here. If that stupid Marlene saw me doing any of this, if she heard me say what I just said, I would just die!

With two more packages left, Samuel was instructed to put his baby doll in the stroller “for a nap” and finish opening his presents. The least offensive toy Samuel received that morning was a white stuffed bear, almost as large as his new baby boy dolly and no less cute. It had shiny black beads for eyes and a little pink nose and a red yarn smile for a mouth. A pink satin bow tie gave it a feminine, juvenile appearance.

“That’s Mr. Fuzzy,” the cheerful woman cooed. “Isn’t he just adorable? I thought of you the instant I laid eyes on him at the toy store. I thought, now here’s the perfect best friend for my precious little baby doll! Don’t you just love him? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Samuel nodded. He had to or risk raising his babysitter’s unpredictable temper. “Yes, Nana. He’s perfect. He’s very pretty and I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun together!”

The sly matron smiled. “I’m sure you will, princess. Why don’t you give him a kiss, then? Let him know how much you love him.”

The crossdressed child sighed. He’d done much less stupid things that morning. How could this make things worse? He kissed the little stuffed toy on top of the head, but that wasn’t good enough. He saw a look of disapproval on his babysitter’s face, but before she could say anything he readily pressed his lips against the bear’s red yarn mouth and pretended to kiss it. A quick glance showed he’d garnered his grandmother’s approval, so he did it again and again, several times, just like a little child might, for good measure.

“Aw, hims wove hims wittle teddy bear,” the fat woman said, clapping her hands like a spoiled little girl. “Go on, baby doll. Tell Mr. Fuzzy you wove him. Do it. Say, ‘I wove you Mr. Fuzzy! I wove you soooooo much!’”

Her voice suddenly dropped an octave, taking on a sinister, menacing tone that threatened bad things if he strayed from his current course.

“Do it, my little fairy princess! Do it NOW!!!”

“I wove you, Mr. Fuzzy,” Samuel said, inspired – well, frightened would be a better word – by his grandmother’s sudden change in manner. “I woooooove you sooooooo so so so so so muuuuuch!”

Feeling self-conscious and completely ridiculous, the preteen lad gave the silly toy several repeat kisses for good measure, anything to keep his guardian from getting angry.

“I woooove you so much, Mr. Fuzzy Wuzzy Bear! I weally do! You’re going to be my best fwiend! Oh yes you are! Oh yes you are! You’re my best fwiend in the whole wide world!”

“Much better, my little fairy,” the gruff voiced woman conceded. “Let’s see more of that enthusiasm throughout the remainder of the day … unless you want your butt blistered … and another enema.”

Samuel nodded. He was confused by the sudden change in attitude. He’d done everything he’d been asked, no matter how silly or embarrassing or humiliating it might have been. Maybe that was just a warning not to stray.

He glanced at the remaining presents and thought for a moment. Then he sighed.

Maybe the worst was yet to come!

After letting his grandmother take several pictures of him making friends with his new teddy bear, the weary lad stared at the collection of girlish items he’d received so far. Between the fairy costume and that stupid dress and underwear there enough to make up an entire wardrobe. The little baby doll and that dumb stroller its accessories added to the surreal nature of the occasion, not to mention a new level of degradation. He thought about the pictures his grandmother had of him nursing that stupid doll against his nipple and he cringed at his own cowardice.

Samuel’s mind reeled at what was happening to him. What was he supposed to do with all of this stuff? Was his mother and babysitter trying to turn him into a girl? If not, what? Some sort of sissy or faggot? He tried to imagine telling any of this to his friends back home, but the mere thought of doing such a thing was terrifying. No one could ever know what had happened to him during his holiday with Old Lady Tully. Really, this had to be the most bizarre Christmas ever!

His eyes wandered from the little baby doll in its stroller over to the paper bags containing his new toy rifle and GI Joe and the clothes his father gave him. A wave of sadness swept over him. His eyes started burning and he felt a tear run down his cheek.

Ugh! And I guess Mrs. Tully thinks I’m going to play with those stupid girl’s toys every time I come visit her now. And I’ll probably end up playing with them, just like I end up letting her treat me like a stupid sissy all the time. Why me? What the heck is going on with me anyway? Am I starting to actually like this stupid stuff?

This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me! EVER!!!

It turned out that Samuel’s Christmas wasn’t over. Not quite yet. Mrs. Tully got up and dug behind the tree, pulling out yet another large package. She smiled at him as if to say this was something really special.

And that scared him to no end.

“Here, sweetheart, this is for both you and your mommy. I think you’re both really going to like it. It’s probably my most favorite of all!”

Samuel took the huge box and stared at it. It looked suspiciously like the one the polka dot dress came in. He gave it a shake and sighed. It even felt and sounded much heavier than the one that held that stupid dress. That wasn’t good. He took his time as he began the tedious task of picking away at the tape that sealed the seams.

I don’t think I’m gonna like this one very much, either, he thought sadly.

To his surprise and momentary relief there was no dress in the box. It wasn’t even any kind of clothing at all. When Samuel removed the top layer of tissue paper his heart dropped and his bottom twitched. What he saw was far, far worse than any girl’s clothing. Much worse, indeed.

“Isn’t it exciting, baby doll? Don’t you just love it? Hmm? Hmmm?” The leering babysitter sang the words in a sarcastic, sugary sweet voice. Samuel hated when she talked like that. “Go ahead, take it out of the box and put it together. I know you know what it’s for. Come on, show Nana your fun new toy.”

With shaking hands twelve year old Samuel Oliver picked up the enormous red rubber bag and held it up for his grandmother to see. A flash of light went off, but he was in such shock that he didn’t even think to protest his picture being taken.

“This … this … is for me?” he squeaked. “I mean … you’re kidding, right?”

A slow shake of his babysitter’s head told the youngster this was no joke.

“Nanaaaaaa … what am I supposed to do … w-w-with … th-this … this th-thing?”

The bosomy bully giggled. “What do you mean? It’s for you to use on your bottom, silly boy! I got it for you to take home with you. Now you can keep your pretty body all spic and span, inside and out! Isn’t that a great idea? Hmm? Hmmm?”

“But … I-I-I … I can’t … do that,” the poor lad stammered. “I … I can’t ….”

Irma Tully nodded and grinned. “Not to worry, baby doll. You can get your mommy to help you. She and I have already talked about it. She can’t wait to get her hands on her little Christmas fairy. You two are going to have so much fun together when she gets back, you won’t be able to stand it!”

This was not what Samuel wanted to hear. Not at all. The stunned boy felt sick to his stomach.

Not my mom. Not her ... poking my butt with ... one of those ... things. Not at home ....

Nooooooo ....

Samuel stared at the red rubber bag, his eyes wide with fright, his voice paralyzed. Surely this wasn’t happening. It was bad enough Mrs. Tully gave him enemas when he stayed at her house. Now he was going to get them at home? And from his own mother?

“I wish you could see the look on your face,” the cruel babysitter said with a chuckle. “I can tell that you just love the idea of getting an enema from your mommy. Just think how much fun it will be, having her wash your fat little bottom for you and making you all nice and clean, inside and out!”

Samuel felt dizzy, as if he was about to faint. Oh god, this like a nightmare, he thought to himself. Please, don’t let this be happening … please don’t let this be happening ….

"I can just see it now." The mischievous matron put her hands together as if she was in prayer. When she opened her mouth the words were mocking and childish in their delivery. "Oh please, mummy, won't you give me an enema? My naughty bottom has an itch and it needs washing. It needs your loving touch. Please, mummy, your little sissy boy needs an enema!"

Samuel watched with horror as his babysitter continued her theatrics, putting her hand to her head and pretending to plead in dramatic fashion.

"Please, oh please, mummy, please wash my poor bottom! I’ve been bad and I’m filled with all sorts of boyish nastiness. Won’t you please, please give me an enema? It’s the bestest thing ever and I want you to do it for me, pleeeeeeasssse!"

The stunned boy could not believe his eyes or his ears. This was no joking matter! Did that crazy old woman really think this was funny? Did she think he actually wanted his mom to give him … to poke his ….

Had she lost her freaking mind?

What the heck was going on???

“Oh yes, the two of you are going to have such fun together,” Mrs. Tully said in a sing song, teasing voice. “Almost as much fun you have with your mean old Nana. When your mommy gets back you can go home and get an enema anytime you like, as often as you want. You can get one every day if you like. All you’ll have to do is ask. Isn’t that exciting? Isn’t that fun? What a lucky little boy you are! Oh, yes, such a lucky little boy ….”

The huge woman grunted as she got up from her seat. She bent over the horrified child, her enormous breasts rubbing against his blushing face, as she rummaged through the box in his lap.

“You also have some accessories in there with your new bag, baby doll.” Giving a satisfied laugh, she pulled out a long white hose and a hand full of plastic objects and held them out for him to see. “Here you go, my love, everything you need to keep your pretty bottom healthy and fresh, just like a newborn babe’s. Here’s the little clip and a spare, just in case you lose it. And there are plenty of fun nozzles to choose from.”

Samuel stared at the obscene collection before his eyes. A sudden thrill swept over his body and he felt a familiar yet unwanted tingle at the tip of his boyish erection.

“Oh yes, I bet you can’t wait to get home and show them off to your mommy! The two of you are going to have the bestest time together! I can just imagine the joy you’ll experience getting your cute little bottom washed by your pretty mommy!”

The horrified child saw that there were at least five different nozzles of all shapes and sizes; he recognized a couple from previous sessions at the hands of his babysitter, but the others he’d never even seen before. Several of them were quite large and oddly shaped; was it just him or did some of them look like a penis? The two largest ones were made out of rubber, one pink and smooth, the other black and covered with odd looking bumps. Both were longer and thicker than anything he’d taken up his bottom before. The nervous boy felt a shiver go through his entire body. The thought of having to take either of these horrible things up his butt was enough to take his breath away.

“Oh yes, I’m sure your mommy will love playing with your fat little bottom even more than Nana. Just think how much fun you’ll have, bent over her knee, trying out all of these new toys. What a lucky little sissy boy you are! Such a lucky little sissy ….”

That was the other thing, the red-faced child thought with disgust. His babysitter’s constant references to his mother were going too far! The very thought of his mom giving him an enema was as distasteful as it was frightening.

The problem was, Mrs. Tully might be right. The way Samuel’s mother had been acting lately, she just might enjoy giving him a poke every now and then. The worried boy imagined himself with his bottom in the air, his mother lording over him, lecturing him on his bad behavior while impaling his poor “rosebud” with one of the horrible devices before him. Try as he did, he could not erase the image from his mind. Knowing that this was his fate was enough to make him giddy with emotion.

This can’t be happening, Samuel kept telling himself. Not my mom ... not at home! This can’t be happening … this can’t be happening ….

***

Irma Tully was as happy as could be. She could not have imagined a more exciting, a more enjoyable Christmas morning. Oh, the fun and the funniness, it was all too good to be true. And while the gift giving was about to be over – for now, at least – there was still one final little joke the cruel woman wanted to play on her adopted grandson.

“Now where did I put that last present …?”

Humming a Christmas song, the fat woman got up and pulled a final present from under the tree. She presented a flustered Samuel Oliver with a small gift box, wrapped in white paper and a bright, lipstick red ribbon. The bow atop the package was perfect, almost flowerlike. It looked like a jewelry box or even a box of candy. Despite his dire circumstances, the crossdressed child was more than a little curious as to its contents.

“The tag says, ‘To Denise, from Irma.’ Is this for my mom?” the confused child whispered. “You got this for my mom?”

“That’s right, princess. Very good!” Mrs. Tully puffed up her chest proudly and looked down at the scantily clad lad with a little smirk on her lips. “I thought perhaps you’d like to see what I’m giving your mommy. It’s actually for the both of you, but mostly for your mommy to use. I figured you’d be interested as you’ll be the benefactor … in the end, so to speak.”

The grinning woman nodded and bade him to lift the lid. “Go ahead, baby doll. It won’t bite you.”

Samuel did as he was told, lifting the lid and setting it aside. He stared for a moment at the open box in his hands, not quite sure what he was looking at; it held a pair of fancy jars, the kind ladies kept their creams and lotions in. He suddenly gasped when he realized what he was looking at.

“Noooo,” the pale faced child whined. He glanced up at his babysitter and shook his head. “Please, Nana, not that … not this ….”

With a giggle Irma Tully nodded her head up and down with the greatest enthusiasm, just like a little girl. She knew exactly what the jars held; she had put them together, in fact, filling each by hand and even decorating the fancy decorated labels with an elegant feminine handwriting.

“Hold them up so you can see them, princess. Go on, don’t be a party pooper. Do what Nana says.”

The defeated child complied with her instructions. Irma smiled to see the jars in his sweet little trembling hands; one said “Samuel’s Favorite Fun Lotion” while the other was marked “Nana’s Ointment for Naughty Boys.”

“Nana … this isn’t … y-y-you c-c-can’t,” Samuel stammered. The stunned boy looked up at his babysitter, his mouth open and his eyes wide with horror. “I mean … you’re not really gonna give these to m-my … m-m-my … my m-m-mom. P-p-please … d-don’t ….”

The happy woman clucked her tongue and laughed. “Oh, you silly thing, of course I’m giving these to your mommy. Why shouldn’t I? I mean, what better gift than a little something to bring the two of you closer together. And there’s nothing closer than a pretty mommy taking care of her little boy’s naughty wee-wee!”

Irma picked up the jar of lotion, opened it and waved it under her nose. There it was, the distinct aroma of lavender and lilacs. She did the same with the other jar. That one smelled of cinnamon and a hint of chili peppers. She then waved each under Samuel’s nose, smiling as the shaken lad squirmed uncomfortably, pressing his naked thighs together in a vain to protect his boyish privates. The delighted woman laughed at his reaction and she prattled on as if she was talking about a favorite recipe.

“Just think how much fun you’ll have with your mommy putting your favorite lotion on your precious little thingie every night. Remember what I said about your pretty pink pearl – touching it is only for mommies and grandmothers, right? Now when you get excited your mommy can take care of it for you so you can get a good night’s sleep. Won’t that be fun? Hmm? Hmmm?”

“That doesn’t sound like fun to me at all,” the mortified youngster fussed. “I don’t want my mom touching me down there like that!”

“You don’t want her touching you down there like what?” Mrs. Tully put on a good show at laughing at her little joke. “How exactly do you want her to touch you down there?”

“That’s not what I meant! You’re … you’re twisting my words around again … to make me … make me sound stupid!”

“Uh-oooooh … I think my little sissy boy has some naughty thoughts about him’s pwetty mummy. I think hims can’t wait for him’s pwetty mummy to touch him’s wittle wienie.”

“I do not,” the sullen child muttered. “And it’s not funny! Stop laughing at me!”

“Oh, but it is funny, princess,” his babysitter sang happily. “It is hilarious. I know how much you love having your wittle weenie wubbed. You can’t fool me! Oh, you act all shy about it, which is so silly. But don’t you worry, Nana is going to make your dreams come true. Remember, your mommy is in charge of you, so she can touch you any way she wants. There’s nothing you can do about it, so you may as well just smile and enjoy it!”

Seeing the look of panic on Samuel’s face, the bullying woman pushed him even further. “Just think about it, princess. You love it when Nana rubs your wittle wee-wee and makes you squirt. Now all you’ll have to do is ask your mummy and she’ll do it for you. Won’t that be fun? Won’t that be nice? Hmm? Hmmm?”

The red-faced boy just stood and frowned. He looked like he was about to burst out in tears. Irma noted this and pushed him a bit harder.

“Of course, if you’re a naughty boy she can paddle your fat little butt and then use Nana’s special stinging ointment on you. A little fire on your nasty parts ought to keep you in line, don’t you think?” The cruel woman laughed. “Is that what you want? For your mummy to put the hot ointment on your wittle wee-wee?”

“NO!!!” Samuel’s face was wet, his eyes flooded with tears. “It burns … and I don’t like it. I don’t want her to use that stuff on me. Ever!”

Irma Tully nodded. “Then all you have to do is be a good little boy and ask your mummy to use the fun lotion, right? Hmm? Riiiiiiight?”

She smiled to see her young friend slowly nod his head.

“That’s what I thought. Oh yes, I think I see a good little boy getting a lot of nice lotion rubbed on his wittle wee-wee by his mummy. That’s what I think.”

The cruel woman was so happy. She could easily imagine Samuel’s confusion; after all, who knew him better? Oh yes, he was worrying and thinking and worrying even more. His mother giving him an enema was bad enough; the thought of her putting lotion on his penis – or worse, that god awful burning ointment! – was enough to make his head explode. And the thought of sitting naked on his mother’s lap, her hands wrapped around his erection and rubbing him until he made a mess – that was the worst!

Poor thing, she thought as the youngster shook his head frantically in an effort to rid himself of such dark thoughts. Poor poor thing. Life is so confusing when you’re so young and naïve. So confusing, indeed.

“What a lucky little boy!” the evil babysitter suddenly sang out loud. “My pretty fairy princess is going to have a wonderful time when his mommy gets back from her vacation. I can’t wait to hear how it all turns out. It’s about time the two of you starting getting along. Between getting your little rosebud washed and your pink pearl polished, you’re going to have the most wonderful time with your pretty mommy! There’s nothing like a mother’s love to tame a naughty little boy and bring him into the fold.”

Irma Tully watched with great satisfaction as Samuel stood before her, speechless and trembling. The stunned child couldn’t think of anything to say. His body slumped in solemn surrender, his pretty blond head lowered in shame.

The wicked woman’s smile suddenly grew broad. Her whole face, in fact, beamed with joy! Despite her grandson’s dramatic display of defeat, which she immensely enjoyed, of course, she saw something about him that belied his emotions, something that in her mind proved her theory of what little boys actually wanted; something that would bring her the sweetest, most rewarding victory of all.

What a wonderful Christmas this is turning out to be, she thought happily as she stared at the source of her amusement. All this and the day is still young! Merry Christmas, Irma! You are one lucky girl!

***

It would be an understatement to say that Samuel Oliver was one confused twelve year old boy. After all he’d been through in the past two days, in just the past few hours alone, any of that was enough to drive any youngster to the brink of a panic attack, much less a flood of tears. But the revelations of the past five minutes were the absolute worst; to be faced with the possibility that this horrible nightmare wouldn’t end when he left this awful house, to be told that it would follow him home and be visited upon him day in and day out by his own mother. That was the most devastating news of all.

I don’t want my mom jacking me off, he told himself. That’s sick! That’s weird! That’s … that’s … that’s just plain wrong! She can’t do that to me. She wouldn’t do that to me … right? I mean … I don’t care what Old Lady Tully keeps saying … moms don’t do that to boys … right?

For some reason his mind let form the image of his babysitter lingering over him, her hands in between his legs, her broad lips puckering up for kiss. That was enough to give the shaken lad the shivers. But then, just for an instant, he imagined his mother stepping in, her skeptical countenance mocking him as she took over masturbation duties from the leering Mrs. Tully. It was a memory mixed with a nightmare turned into a most confusing … and disturbing … fantasy.

Moms don’t really do that … moms don’t really do that … moms don’t really do that ….

For several seconds Samuel tried to wipe the thought of his mother jacking him off, but it was futile. It was as though someone had injected his brain with that very idea, which of course was what happened when he opened up the last gift from that awful Mrs. Tully.

She’s just kidding, right? She’s just playing another mean joke on me, he thought to himself. But why would she do that? That was mean … and it was disgusting! People shouldn’t make jokes about other peoples’ moms like that.

After a long silence Samuel realized that his grandmother hadn’t said a word the entire time he’d been thinking. He dared to open his eyes, just for a second. Too afraid to look up, he kept them cast downward in order to avoid the cruel gaze of his evil captor.

And that’s when he saw something that made him feel even worse, as if such a thing was possible.

His penis had grown. Not just a little, but a lot. Waaaay too much, in fact. Before, it was just sort of bouncing about, inconvenient but not that bad. But now, well, it was a problem. He had a full blown, shiny pink bouncing up and down preteen “look-at-me-here-I-am-I’m-horny-as-heck” erection! As sure as it was Christmas, his penis was stiff and eager and ready for attention. Even if he was not.

Oh god, the horrified child thought. Not this! Not in front of her! Not now! Oh god ohgodohgodohgodohgod ….

If he was being honest with himself, Samuel shouldn’t have been surprised that his body reacted this way. The truth is, for all his protests and complaints and attempts to resist, our young hero was never completely unhappy with the things his grandmother did to him. Oh sure, he often felt embarrassed and humiliated as he endured the various experiments and games, but there was that part of him that found intense pleasure and perhaps even a bit of joy under her touch.

This instance was no different.

So it was only natural that our little hero’s boyish organ would react this way at the prospect of his mother’s touch, regardless of his distaste. All of the gifts, the lotion and ointment and the red rubber bag and nozzles and accessories, all of these things triggered something inside his body that he had no control over. The muscle memory of what those things could do to him and make him feel, combined with his grandmother’s incessant, creepy references about his mother giving him enemas and jacking him off … that just made matters worse. Or better, from his body’s point of view: it didn’t care who penetrated his bottom as long as it got penetrated; it didn’t care who jacked him off as long as it got jacked off. Yes, it was all very weird and unsettling and more than a bit perverted, but the truth was that he had the most intense, raging and ill-timed erection he’d ever had in his life.

I feel sick, the frustrated boy thought as he tried to think of a way out of his predicament. His hands were still busy holding the jars of burning ointment and soothing lotion, so there was no covering up his excitement. Nothing else came to mind, so he resigned himself to giving in to whatever fate – or his grandmother – had in store for him.

A submissive Samuel Oliver reluctantly raised his head and looked up to see his babysitter leering down at him, a hungry grin spreading across her devilish face. Mrs. Tully’s lizardlike eyes dropped down to study his treacherous erection as it bobbed happily about, proud and pink and eager to be touched. Those same eyes then crept upward until they were staring him right in the face; he felt like a little helpless mouse about to be devoured by some evil monster.

“Oh yes, we’re going to have to do something about that, aren’t we, baby doll? I mean, you and I both know we can’t have you running around on Christmas morning with your little soldier sticking out like that, can we?”

Samuel did as he was expected. “Yes, Nana,” he squeaked.

The sadistic woman nodded at the two jars he held in his hands. “This is a perfect opportunity to try my little gifts. This way we can tell your mommy they’ve tested and approved. You pick, baby doll. Hot or cool, spicy or sweet. It’s your choice.”

Samuel sighed. Spicy or sweet – what a horrible way to describe it. I am so fucked! Either way, one is just as bad as the other. One feels so good, but it’s so creepy … and the other hurts so much, I can’t hardly stand it.

The youngster shrugged, then sighed. It doesn’t matter. Christmas is ruined either way and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

He put down the jar of burning ointment. He then handed the bottle of lotion to his babysitter. His face burned at the prospect of what he was about to experience. He knew it was going to be the most amazing sensation, the most wonderful feeling in the world; but afterward he would feel so ashamed, so mortified he would want to just lie down and die. But there would be no time for that. The day, as his grandmother kept saying, was still young. There were things to do and places to go and … and … people to … see?

I sure hope that doesn’t mean what I think ….

Samuel Oliver looked up at the plump woman in the Mrs. Claus dress, watching in rapt horror as she poured a dollop of lotion into her hand and smiled her wicked smile.

“Come here, princess,” Irma Tully said with a motherly purr. “Come sit in Nana’s lap. Nana is going to take that nasty, pesky wee-wee and put it to sleep for a while. And when I get done you’ll feel so good all over. Maybe then you won’t be such a party pooper and we can have a fun Christmas!”

Samuel nodded. He looked down at his skimpy fairy costume and that treacherous, stupid penis and sighed. He deserved this. No matter how he got in this situation, he allowed it to happen and deserved it. None of his friends would have put up with it; they’d have either ran away or told someone and gotten them to stop it. But no, he just let it all happen. There was no excuse, no other reason for it. It was his fault and he deserved it.

“I don’t want to be a party pooper, Nana,” he said, just he’d said a thousand times in that little house at the end of the lane. “I want a fun Christmas, too.”

As he spoke, the youngster struggled deep inside with his feelings. He looked up at his grandmother and the haughty, mocking expression on her smug face. Her smile grew as she let her fat, slippery fingers dance in between his legs and linger over the tip of his tingling organ. He closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the bully woman’s face, but that only made things worse; for some weird reason the image of his mother came to mind and the idea of her jacking him off took hold. That was enough to cause him to open his eyes wide and to stare panic-stricken into the eyes of the evil Mrs. Irma Tully.

“That’s it, princess, you just lay back and let Nana make you feel good. We’re going to have the most fun you’ve ever had in your life. Nana loves her little princess. And princess loves Nana, right? Hmm? Hmmm?”

The captive child felt his eyes roll up and a warm squishy wave of pleasure swept over his helpless body.

“Yes, Nana. Princess loves … you,” he whispered. “I … *gasp* … love you ….”

Samuel Oliver wanted to cry as he said those awful words, but his mind was reeling at the sensations that assaulted his being. As he succumbed to the illicit joy of his babysitter’s touch, the mortified lad could only think one thing:

This is the most messed up Christmas ever!

To be continued ….

(The End)