Roosevelt Humiliations

[Blondie]

Chapter 15: A Mortifying Measurement

The Measurement

I shook my head in disbelief, crouched low and shivering, still completely unclothed. My hands were wedged tightly between my thighs as I huddled on the cold floor, silently praying for a miracle—or a black hole.

After a bit there was at the door. “Knock-knock!” Julie chirped, far too cheerfully.

“Yes?” I answered the salesgirl anxiously.

But instead of a response, I heard the unmistakable click of a key sliding into the lock.

“What—hey!” I yelped, just as the door popped open and Julie waltzed in. “What’re you…I’m na....I'm not dressed!”

“Not a problem,” she said without batting an eyelash, as if it was standard procedure for her. In her hand was a measuring tape and a clipboard. On the clipboard was a sheet of paper with a drawing of the outline of a female human figure. “We just need to get you sized properly. Head to toe. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Oh! Please, I don’t need…at least let me get dressed first?” I stammered, inching backward in vain.

Julie smiled sweetly. “No need for that, honeybun. Nothing I’ve never seen before, so there’s no need to be bashful. Besides, it’s much easier to get exact measurements this way. While you're naked. Now be a good boy and stand up straight for me, hmm?”

With a pitiful groan, I rose slowly, keeping both hands firmly clamped over my modesty. I stared straight ahead, face burning, as Julie casually left the door cracked open. Naturally, Becky, Brenda, and the young teens needed no further invitation. The door creaked wider as their wide-eyed faces peeked in, hungry for more spectacle. Of course, Julie made no effort to discourage them.

Trying (and failing) to suppress her smirk, Julie knelt behind me and gently lifted my right heel. “If you’ll hold down this end with your heel, I’ll go ahead and get your height.” She stood and extended the tape to the top of my head. “Stand tall now….aaand….five-nine and a half. Excellent!”

She looked around. “Shoot, I forgot the scale. Don’t go anywhere,” she said with a wink, already halfway out the door.

“It’s okay!” I called back anxiously. “Why do you need my.…I weigh one thirty-fi—”

“I’ll be right back! It’s best to weigh you while you’re naked!” she hollered from the sales floor, much louder than I thought necessary.

The giggling girls continued to hang about the doorway while I waited impatiently for the salesgirl. I turned my back to the girls and bent to a crouch. It was a full five minutes before Julie returned.

“Sorry for the delay,” she said brightly, stepping back in with the scale. “Had to help another customer. But don’t worry, I’m all yours now.”

Wonderful.

She laid the scale on the floor and motioned for me to step on. When I did, she announced what I already knew. “One thirty-five. Five-nine and a half, one-thirty-five,” she said, scribbling onto the clipboard.

She looked up at the girls. “Excuse me, but could I trouble one of you girls to write down this information for me as I call it out?”

Becky jumped at the opportunity. “No problem,” she beamed as she stepped into the room and took the clipboard.

“Thank you so much,” said Julie.

I stood helplessly, still covering myself as best I could, while Becky took her place beside Julie—both clearly reveling in the moment.

“Okay, let’s get your neck size, sweetie. Chin up,” Julie said, gently tilting my head with her fingertips. “Once we get all your measurements, you can go to our website and do your lingerie shopping online....looks like fourteen inches exactly. Lovely swan neck you’ve got.”

I groaned softly.

"Okay, I’ll need you to hold your arms straight out to your sides, sweetheart, so we can get your chest size.”

“Please,” I whispered, “just… let me put something on.”

Julie rolled her eyes like I was being dramatic. “Now, now, we’ve been over this. Your measurements are much more accurate when you’re nice and naked. Now be a good boy and make this easy for me. Arms out, soldier. Nice and straight, like you’re ready to take off.”

I glanced at Brenda and saw the unspoken command in her eyes. With a defeated sigh, I knew what I had to do. Slowly, painfully, I moved my hands from my crotch, exposing myself to the full view—and full judgment—of the room.

“Atta boy,” Julie said with a grin, her tone sugary sweet. I caught her eyes flicking down to where my hands had just been. Her smirk widened, unmistakably amused by the view.

“See how easy that was? Now let’s get these arms up," she said as she took hold of each of my arms and lifted them up. “There we go—flying position. Hold that pose....perfect!”

She slipped behind me for the chest measurement, most assuredly to give the girls an unobstructed view of my exposed genitals. Becky and Brenda had seen me naked before, but they were grinning brightly, as their enjoyment of my humiliation seemed to have no limits. The young teenyboppers were grabbing onto each other and giggling uncontrollably while staring at my genitals. It was all I could do to keep from running off.

“Thirty-two inches,” Julie announced. She walked around and gave my chest an appraising look. “That’s a double A cup, for sure.”

Cue another wave of laughter. Becky dutifully jotted it down like she was recording lab results.

“Okay,” she continued. “Let’s get your waist size now. I’ll need you to hold your arms up high in the air. It’s best to get the waist measurement while you’re all stretched out, in case you ever want to wear a corset.”

I grudgingly raised my arms slightly.

“All the way up, please,” Julie directed.

Reluctantly, I obeyed, raising my arms like a yoga student.

"Now interlock your fingers and face your palms to the sky……no, turn them up, so your body will be nice and taut….there you go, perfect….you’re all stretched out now….I must compliment you on your hygiene….lovely smooth underarms.”

The giggling turned up a notch. It was true—though I had sprouted some pubic hair, my armpits were still hairless.

She walked behind me to take the measurement, affording the other girls what for them was I’m sure a very entertaining view.

“Twenty-eight inches." After a pause, she said, “With a corset I think you’ll have a lovely hourglass figure.”

I dropped my arms again, my hands snapping back over my crotch like magnets.

Julie came back around and faced me. “Okay, we’re almost done. I just need to measure your hips so your panties will be properly sized.”

I groaned softly to myself as Julie knelt once more.

She looked up at me. “You’ll need to hold your arms up and out of the way, please.”

With a defeated sigh, I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to pretend I wasn’t standing there naked, being sized for panties.

Julie wrapped the tape around my hips. Her eyes were no more than two inches from my penis as she purposefully scrutinized her objective—and at that moment, I don’t think it was the tape.

As she stood up, she couldn’t suppress another smirk, only now it was more pronounced. “Definitely an extra small,” was her stinging remark. While everyone laughed, she gave my flushed face a sympathetic pat. “There, that wasn’t so bad, now, was it?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

As everyone trickled out, still laughing, Julie turned back and chirped, “Be right back with your bra and panties!”

The door clicked shut, and I locked it in a hurry. I leaned against it, face in my palms, and muttered into my hands.

“Oh….my.…fucking....God.”


Bra and Panties

My reprieve was short-lived. Barely two minutes had passed when Julie’s hand appeared over the dressing room door, holding a pair of lavender-colored panties. “Would you try these on for me, please?”

Shuddering, I took the panties and gingerly slipped them on. They hugged me a little too well. I winced as I glanced downward.

“Well?” Julie’s voice was expectant, chipper.

“They’re….fine,” I answered meekly.

Next came the matching bra, unceremoniously draped over the top of the door. I tried ignoring it, but—yeah, no chance.

“Don’t forget your bra,” came the cheery voice from the other side of the door.

I reluctantly slid the shameful garment off the door and stared at it like it might bite me. Which direction did this thing even go? Julie, sensing my struggle, piped up again.

“Slip your arms through the openings, sweetheart, then clasp it in the back. Would you like some help?”

“No!” I blurted far too fast. “I mean….I can do it."

After a full-on wrestling match, I finally managed to secure it. I felt ridiculous, and more than a little humiliated.

“How are we doing in there?” asked the all-too-helpful Julie.

“Fine. They fit fine. Really. I’ll take them….if that’s what you want.”

There was a brief pause.

Maybe she was done?

“Just to be sure, I think we should have a look in the mirror.”

Of course she does.

I closed my eyes for a moment to gather myself. Then I opened the door.

“Oh, you look adorable,” Julie gushed. “Do you feel as sexy as you look?”

I didn’t dignify that with a response. I power-walked toward the mirror, wishing I had a paper bag for my head.

As expected, I was met by a growing crowd of grinning faces. Becky and Brenda were beaming, their amusement clearly endless. The teenage girls were practically bouncing with glee. The blonde customer from before observed from a distance. She looked quite amused. And now, because this clearly wasn’t humiliating enough, another saleslady and a couple of other women in the store had taken notice of the show.

When I reached the mirror, the girls formed a cozy semicircle around me, looking on with great amusement. Julie sidled up to me.

“Oh yes, this is definitely you,” she said, adjusting the lace along the bra cups with professional ease. “Lavender is such a lovely color on you, don’t you think so?”

The two new customers had wandered closer, watching like they’d stumbled onto the best matinee in the mall. I needed to get out of sight immediately.

“Yes….I mean, no….I mean—I’ll take them, please!”

I spun on my heel and bolted toward the dressing room, desperate for cover. But to my horror, the door was closed—and locked. Someone was already inside. In a mini-panic, I looked around for another dressing room, but there was none to be found.

I knocked on the door. “Excuse me, but can I get in there?” I asked anxiously.

A woman’s voice replied smoothly, “I beg your pardon, young man, but I’m busy in here.”

The occupant paused and peeked at me over the door, looking me up and down with open amusement. Tall Blonde Lady from before. Grinning widely, she calmly said, “She’s right, you know. It is a lovely color on you.”

My nightmare continued. I stood stiffly by the dressing room door, one arm crossed over my chest, the other shielding the front of the panties. It wasn’t until later, replaying the scene in my mind with a shiver, that it struck me: I was striking the exact pose any modest girl in my situation probably would’ve assumed. And once that realization sank in, it only deepened my shame.

Becky, Brenda, and the two teenagers clustered around, savoring every second of my mortifying exposure.

Eventually, mercifully, the dressing room vacated. I scrambled inside and slammed the door shut, breathing a sigh of relief like never before.

But then I realized....my clothes were still missing.

I poked my head above the door and looked around, but they were nowhere to be seen. I spotted Julie a few yards away. She was still grinning.

“May I please have my clothes now?” I called out to her.

“Sure!” came Julie’s cheerful voice. “I’ll get them for you. First, though, hand me your new bra and panties, and I’ll wrap them up for you.”


Naked Again

I sighed and peeled off the offending garments. They were snatched from the door in a blink, and once again I was left naked and waiting....and waiting.…and waiting.…

“Excuse me?” I shouted, now with impertinence. “I’m still waiting for my clothes!”

“Sorry, I’m helping another customer. Your clothes are hanging on the rack with the babydolls. You’ll have to get them yourself.”

I groaned. I should have known it would come to that.

Peeking out, I scanned the store. I had no idea what a babydoll even was, but clearly I wasn’t going to find my outfit without parading through the store naked again. Desperate, I grabbed a tennis shoe. I held it over my genitals, which fit perfectly inside the opening of the shoe.

I made a break for it.

The store exploded in laughter. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw several people peering through the window—one of them actually pointing at me with glee.

I darted from rack to rack like a deranged shopper on Black Friday, searching for anything that resembled my clothes. No luck. Tall Blonde was headed toward the dressing room again, and I barely beat her to it.

I slammed the door behind me and yelled, “Please! Can somebody please bring me my fucking clothes?!”


The Teddy

There was silence. Then, slowly, ominously….a fuchsia teddy was draped over the door.

Becky’s voice followed. “That’s no way for a young lady to talk. Now put on your new teddy and let’s go home.”

“Oh, shit,” I muttered to myself. I pulled the teddy off the door and leaned against the wall, feeling hopeless. “Ohhh, shit.”

There was a knock. “Open the door!” Becky demanded.

In a rush, I pulled the teddy on—again—and turned the knob. Becky burst in, holding a shopping bag.

“If you’d just asked nicely,” she teased, “I would’ve given these to you.”

She showed me the contents—my shorts, t-shirt, underpants—and then she dropped in my shoes and the frilly socks.

“Let’s go,” she said with a sunny smile.

“Oh God, please, Beck! I can’t—not in the mall!”

Becky simply smiled and tugged at my elbow.

I pulled loose and tentatively ventured out of the dressing room. Once again, I was the center of attention. I briskly walked toward the exit.

But there was Julie, waving merrily from behind the counter.

“Yoo-hoo! Don’t forget to pay for your lingerie, sir!” she called, delighting in every syllable.

I gave Brenda a desperate look. She smiled and nodded toward the counter. Becky reached into the shopping bag, retrieved the credit card, and handed it to Julie. She took an unusually long time to complete the transaction while I stood there, basking in my degradation.

At last, the smiling Julie handed me the pink bag containing my new bra and panty set. The bag had giant “VS” logo emblazoned on both sides.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “You’re my new favorite customer. Please come back soon. I’ll be happy to help you any time.”

I turned away to leave and Becky jabbed me in the ribs.

"Thank you for your help,” I mumbled, trying not to cry.

“Oh, trust me,” Julie said, her smile wicked, “the pleasure was all mine.”

The walk through the mall was its own special kind of torment. Becky and Brenda each took one of my hands, parading me like a show pony. The young girls trailed behind, openly giggling. I tried to walk fast, but my sister and Brenda held me back.

I even had to wait while they ordered an ice cream.

By the time we reached the exit, I’d lost count of how many people had stared, whispered, pointed, laughed. I heard one wolf whistle, an “Oh, how darling!” and—just to truly cement my humiliation—a loud, “Look at the pretty boy in the lingerie!” I can’t tell you how many shades of red I turned throughout that walk.

When we exited the mall the two young teenage girls stopped at the door and watched us cross the street into the parking lot. As we got in the car the sound of their giggling voices still rang in my ears.

[Blondie]

Chapter 16: Tormented by Becky and Brenda

Under Brenda and Becky’s Thumb

Well, again I must apologize for taking so long in between the accounts of my humiliating travails at the hands of Brenda, Becky and the others from Roosevelt High. You see, I’ve been trying to put it out of my mind, but of course, considering the magnitude of my shame, that’s impossible to do. So I may as well finish what I have started, for posterity’s sake, and for the sake of any readers still grimly amused by my suffering.

Here’s a refresher, just in case you’ve managed to forget what I can’t: My junior year is finished, but I still have a few incidences to relate that occurred during my junior year and in the summer. When we last communicated, Brenda and my sister Becky had thoroughly humiliated me at the mall, where I was put through my paces at Victoria’s Secret. I even had to buy a teddy, and my own bra and panties set.

After that incident, I understood my position clearly: I was completely under their control. Any time I so much as considered defying them, I had only to recall the beach episode—where I ended up stark naked in public and later forced into one of my sister’s swimsuits—to remind myself just how bad things could get. And I had no doubt things could, and would, get worse if I stepped out of line again.

Much to my detriment, Brenda and Becky have become very good friends. In fact, they have formed quite the bond, and when the two of them put their scheming, devilish heads together it never bodes well for me. Whenever Brenda came over, I felt a wave of dread washing over me. It was hard enough to deal with Becky on her own, but the two of them together? That was a recipe for disaster.

Disaster struck one Sunday evening. I wasn’t in a very good mood. I hadn’t had much sleep the night before, I had lost a bet on the football game, and Brenda was at the house visiting. That combination was enough to make me very irritable.

I was lying on my bed reading the sports section when Becky and Brenda barged into my room without knocking. Their purpose was to ease their boredom by teasing me. I was in no mood for their shenanigans.

“Hi, Blondie,” sung Becky as the two of them stood over me with smiles on their faces. “Whatcha doin’?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” I grumbled. “And could you please knock next time? This is my room, you know.”

“Ooh, it must be that time of the month for Blondie,” teased Becky.

“Maybe Blondie’s afraid we’ll surprise him while he’s massaging his little weenie,” Brenda chimed in. They both laughed. “Or maybe he was just about to try on his pretty new outfits from Victoria’s Secret.”

They both laughed, while I seethed—and blushed—behind my paper.

“Hmm, what a great idea, Brenda,” Becky considered. “Blondie, we’re kind of bored right now. How would you like to model your lovely new lingerie for Brenda and me?”

My guard was down, and I spoke without thinking. “Eat shit, Becky, and get the fuck out of my room!” I shouted.

The moment those words left my mouth, I knew I’d messed up. Badly.

“Okay, that’s it, Blondie,” reprimanded Becky, her tone ice cold now. “I’ve had quite enough of your attitude lately. And to act like that in front of my guest….you’re going to pay for this.

She turned to Brenda. “Come on. We need to have a little strategy session.”

Before leaving, she shot me one last glare. “And don’t even think about leaving this room. Do you hear me?”

I didn’t answer.

“I said, DO YOU HEAR ME??”

I nodded meekly.

They exited. Brenda paused in the doorway and puckered her lips while giving me a fake kiss. “See you soon, Blondie.”

As I lay on my bed my mind was racing, and I was dreading what diabolical conspiracy they were devising. At least fifteen minutes had gone by before the grinning girls reentered my room, again without knocking.

To my dismay, Becky was dangling the bag that I recognized from Victoria’s Secret. She noticed me gazing at the bag with a look of apprehension.

“Does this look familiar, sweetie? How about this?” She reached into the bag and pulled out the lavender-colored bra and panty set. “Remember how precious you looked in these?”

“Please, Becky, I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me earlier. I’m just….really tired. Honestly, I didn’t mean it.”

My pleas fell on deaf ears. “Well maybe next time you’ll think twice before giving me any of your dirty lip. In the meantime, you need to learn a lesson. Now, here’s what’s going to happen: You’re going to put on your new bra and panties and come out to the living room, wearing nothing else. Brenda and I are hungry, so maybe you can serve us dessert while you swish around in your cute little girly undies.”

I stared at her in disbelief, but she wasn’t done.

"Then, if you’re really nice,” she added with a smirk, "we might even put on some music and let you entertain us with a little dance. On the coffee table. In your sexy underwear. Now strip off those boy clothes and make yourself pretty for us. We’ll be waiting for you in the living room. You’ve got five minutes.”

She dropped the lingerie on my bed, and Brenda came up behind her.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she cooed, pinching my cheek. “You’re going to look adorable. And I have a feeling you’re going to be quite the dancer.”

They left me alone with my doom. I stared at the delicate lace for a long moment, the color draining from my face. Then, with a deep, resigned sigh, I slowly, deliberately started stripping off my clothes.

I couldn’t believe I would have to wear the bra and panties again. I tried to comfort myself with the fact that at least I wasn’t in a public place. But Brenda and Becky were enjoying my disgrace way too much, and the thought of serving them and then (oh, God) having to dance on the coffee table for their entertainment while wearing a pair of panties and a bra...that was a dreadful notion.

But I had no recourse—to disobey them would mean much worse repercussions down the road. Shuddering, I slipped the panties up my naked body. I pulled the bra on and managed to clasp it in the back. Then, while looking in the mirror, I pulled the straps over my shoulders and took in the very discomforting reflection. I actually turned around to see how I looked from the rear and then chastised myself for doing so. I remember thinking that from the rear, I could probably pass as a girl (which would only give the girls more ammunition to tease me with), what with my smooth skin and slim features. Fortunately, I had grown some hair on my legs. It was blond, and not that noticeable, but at least it was something.

I sat on the bed with my head in my hands. My moment for self-pity would be short-lived, though, as I heard Becky’s voice calling from the living room.

“Blondie, we’re waiting,” she sang. “Come on out and shake those hips for us.” Loud giggling from the two girls ensued.

My sweaty hand was on the doorknob when I heard what at the time was music to my ears: the front door opening, and the voices of my mom and dad. They had come home from a movie much earlier than expected.

I exhaled hard. No way would Becky want our parents to know of the depravity she was inflicting on me. I’ve even considered telling them about it but squelched that idea when I realized that once Mitch found out, then I’d be dog meat.

In any case, for the moment I thankfully had a reprieve, and I turned around to get dressed. Just as I did, Brenda barged in. My back was to her as I scrambled for my clothes.

“Oh, Blondie, how cute,” taunted Brenda as she squeezed my pantied ass before I managed to pull up my jeans.

I didn’t bother stripping off the underwear. I quickly pulled on my jeans and tee shirt right over them so Brenda wouldn’t see me naked.

I turned around and Brenda smiled at my blushing face. “Thanks for the sneak preview, Blondie. We’ll have to pick this up where we left off sometime.”

She exited the room with a giggle as I felt a pang of anxiety over the prospect of a repeat performance, but breathed a sigh of relief over escaping certain humiliation that night.


More Roosevelt Humiliations

My respite didn’t last long.

At school the next day, I had just finished eating lunch and was kicking back, taking in a few rays while leaning against the Roosevelt statue. I should have known better than to go near that damn thing—it seemed like every time I did, something awful happened.

Sure enough, my moment of tranquility was shattered by the ominous, too-cheerful voice of Brenda.

“Well, well, well… Blondie. How nice to see you.”

I wasn’t fooled by the cheerful tone. I opened my eyes to find Brenda, Becky, Marcia, and Cheryl standing over me, all wearing smiles far too sweet to be sincere. One look at their faces, and I knew—something awful was about to happen.

“I hear you look positively adorable in lingerie, Blondie,” teased Marcia. “It would be a treat if you could put on a fashion show for us sometime.” They all giggled.

“Oh, absolutely,” Becky added, taking the cue. “He makes a lovely little teenybopper.” More giggles. More dread.

Becky inched a little closer to me while reaching into her purse and pulling out a tube of lipstick. A sudden fear swept over me as I eyed the lipstick tube like it was a rattlesnake ready to attack.

“Can you believe,” she said to the group, “that he told me to ‘eat shit’ last night? Such language! I mean, is that any way for a proper young girl to talk?”

I jerked my head back as the lipstick inched toward my face, but Brenda was faster. Her hands gripped my shoulders, firm and unrelenting.

“Hold still, darling,” she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear the amusement in her voice.

“Maybe if you looked more like a girl,” Becky mused, “you’d learn not to talk to your fellow females so rudely.”

Before I could wriggle free, she was applying the lipstick. Thick, bright pink. Her movements were slow and deliberate, drawing laughs from the entire group as I sat there, frozen and mortified.

What is it about these girls that they got off on feminizing me?

Becky stepped back to admire her work, smirking. “That’s a good girl, Blondie. Now hold still while I add a little blush.”

She looked at me closely. “On second thought, your cheeks are blushing on their own, you don’t need this. She burst out laughing. “You look marvelous, sweetie.”

She opened her compact and held up the mirror. I was chagrined to see a youngish-looking boy with bright pink lipstick and very red cheeks. I glanced around, silently praying that no one else had seen me like this.

But Becky, as though reading my mind, took care of that in short order.

“Oh hey, look over there,” she said casually, pointing to two coeds chatting nearby. “Do me a favor, Blondie. Go ask them if they have any eye shadow you can borrow. If you succeed, I’ll let you wipe the lipstick off. If not….”

She let the silence hang for effect. Then: “…you have to wear your cute little bra and panty set to school tomorrow. Instead of your underwear.”

I tried to find a way out of the predicament. “Beck, please. I’m really sorry about last night. I swear, it won’t happen again.”

Becky smiled sweetly. “Go, girl, before I put you over my knee and give you a spanking. And rest assured, I’ll pull down your undies and give you a bare-assed slapping that you’ll never forget.”

The girls howled with laughter.

I needed no more prodding. I reluctantly made my way over to the two girls.

I decided to take the direct approach. “Excuse me,” I said, folding my lips inward as I approached. “Do either of you….um, have any eye shadow?”

“Why do you want eye shadow?” asked one of them, a petite brunette. Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion.

“It’s for my sister,” I blurted, pointing toward Becky’s group and awkwardly folding my lips again.

That exchange served two purposes, both to my detriment. One, while I spoke, my newly painted lips were exposed to the two girls.

Two, when I pointed out Becky, the two girls turned and saw my four tormentors in hysterics—pointing, laughing, clearly loving every second. The two coeds sized up the situation, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that I was the victim of a Roosevelt High hazing.

The faces of both girls lit up. They pounced on the opportunity to join in the festivities. “Come on now, ‘fess up, the eye shadow is for you, isn’t it?” asked the brunette. Both girls were giggling.

“N-no, really,” I stammered, “It’s for my sister. Please, can I just get some?" I was blushing crimson, looking down at the ground.

The brunette, clearly enjoying herself, reached into her purse. “How cute,” she continued, “You're like a little schoolgirl, wearing lipstick and blushing like that. I’ll tell you what, you can have some eye shadow if you let me put it on you.”

I hesitated, weighing my options. Public humiliation now or bra and panties tomorrow?

“Okay,” I muttered.

She grinned and pulled out a compact with baby blue eye shadow. As she lifted the applicator, I instinctively closed my eyes. I could hear my sister and her gang laughing from the sidelines, the sound carrying across the courtyard.

“Oh my god,” the brunette’s friend squealed. “I can’t believe this!”

Indeed, neither could I.

When she finished, she stepped back with a satisfied nod. “Oh, yes, you look lovely, little schoolgirl.”

More giggles. I had quite enough and turned to walk back toward my tormentors.

“Thanks for coming by, cupcake!” the brunette called after me.

I walked from two giggling strangers to four cackling maniacs.

The bell rang just as I reached them.

“You can go clean up now, Blondie,” Becky said, handing me a Kleenex through tears of laughter. “But don’t get too comfy. I still owe you for last night.”

I didn’t stick around to hear more. Spitting out the awful taste, I bolted straight for the bathroom, which fortunately was empty. I wiped off the lipstick and scrubbed off the makeup as fast as I could.

I shivered, angst-ridden at the possibility that Becky still had a reprimand in mind.

Sure enough, it came just a few short days later—in spades.

[Blondie]

Chapter 17: The Bubble Bath

Denuded

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, and I came home after two grueling hours of basketball. My parents were out of town for the weekend, and Becky had gone off on some overnight adventure with Brenda. I had the place to myself, and I was looking forward to it.

I pulled off my clothes and went into the bathroom to take a shower. Just as I was about to turn the shower on I spotted my sister’s bubble bath leaning against the corner of the tub. I was a little sore from basketball, and I figured a good soaking would do me good, so I ran the water and poured in some bubble bath liquid. I don’t know what got into me—I hadn’t taken a bubble bath since I was a little kid, but in that moment, I didn’t care. The water was perfect. So perfect, in fact, I started nodding off.

Big mistake.

I don’t know how long I was out, but I was rudely awakened by a tickling sensation on my balls.

I opened my eyes and nearly died on the spot. Standing over me, grinning like cats who’d cornered a mouse, were Becky and Brenda.

I yelped and instinctively swatted Brenda’s hand away. The two girls were laughing uproariously as I flailed about for a while, at a loss for what to do.

Finally, I realized that I best not disturb the bubbles; they were the only protection I had for my modesty.

“Well, well, brother dearest,” Becky purred, clearly relishing every second. "Is this sweet revenge, or what?”

Of course, she was referring to the time many years before that a friend and I intentionally walked in on her while she was taking a bath. She’s never forgiven me for it and was surely in her element over the classic case of poetic justice.

“How cute, a bubble bath," teased Becky. "Let’s see, you bought a bra and panty set, you’ve been wearing lipstick and eye shadow, and now you’re soaking in a bubble bath like a little sissy. It seems to me you want to be a girl. Well, just sit back and relax. Auntie Brenda and I are about to make your day.”

The smiling Becky reached across the tub and grabbed a lady’s pink disposable razor. “Brenda, there’s another one of these in the medicine cabinet. I’ll start on his legs, maybe you can shave his underarms, if he has any hair under there.” Becky giggled, and Brenda, grinning mischievously, wasted no time producing another razor. “Hold up your leg,” demanded Becky.

“What? No! Becky, please—don’t do this!”

I was horrified. I was a late developer, something that had grated on me, and when I finally started growing bodily hair I was quite grateful. Now, with its removal imminent, especially at the hands of the devilish Becky and Brenda, I was quite shaken.

"Please, I’ll do anything, don’t do it!” I had bolted upright and was screaming.

“Anything?” Brenda said sweetly, already reaching into the cabinet. “Then lie back and hold still, sweetheart. Let your loving sister and Auntie Brenda make you niiice and smooth, like the little girly-girl you are.”

She tried to ease me back with her hand pushing on my chest, but I resisted.

“That does it, I’m getting the scissors,” interrupted Becky. "Let’s cut off all his pubic hair, then we’ll take some pictures.”

“Okay, okay!” I relented, lowering back down. My situation was dreadful enough, but I didn’t want to lose my precious pubes.

That got their grins back. Becky grabbed my foot and lifted my leg into the air. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

“There we go. Now hold still, sweetie. We don’t want any nicks on those pretty legs.” She squirted a puff of shaving cream into her palm and smeared it over my shin. She started at my ankle and made a few sweeping motions with the razor, all the way to my knee.

“It was a good idea to take a bath, Blondie," Becky teased. "The hot water has really softened up the hairs. Look how easily it’s coming off.”

I closed my eyes, wincing, as I couldn’t bear to watch.

Then Brenda grabbed my wrist. “Arm up, sugarplum. Let’s see what’s hiding under here. Oh, yes—definitely some fuzz. We can’t have that, now can we? A proper girl should have nice, smooth underarms. Hold your arm waaay up high, dear, so we can get rid of these unsightly things.”

Miserably, I complied, much to my dismay. I had finally started growing armpit hair just a few weeks before, and now it would be gone.

While Becky continued working her way up my leg, Brenda made short order of the small amount of hair on my right armpit. “Other side now, pumpkin. Turn toward me—good girl.” Hearing Brenda sweet-talking me and calling me a girl only added to my extreme mortification, and she knew it.

She finished off my other armpit and ran her hand in a circular motion around my chest. “Oh yes, nice and smooth. We don’t need to spend any time here.”

Brenda glanced at my flushed, miserable face and gently stroked my cheek with the back of her hand. “Aww, don’t pout, sweetheart,” she teased sweetly. “By the time we’re done with you, every boy in school will be lining up just for a chance to get into your pretty little panties.”

Becky, who was intent on her job of denuding my leg, broke her silence by breaking into convulsive laughter. “Oh, Brenda, you’re too much!” laughed Becky as she lowered her head onto Brenda’s chest until she exhausted her laughter.

“You’re quite the card yourself,” answered Brenda, joining in her frivolity.

Great, the mutual admiration society between a pair of dominant females.

I let my leg sink back into the bubbly water.

“Hey, I’m not done yet!” Becky said, tugging it back up. "Hold your leg way up high. I need to finish off your thigh.”

I raised it again and dared a quick peek. My lower leg was already hairless. I winced—and of course, Brenda noticed.

“Pretty, pretty,” she teased, drawing out the t sound as she traced her fingers lightly up and down my smooth calf.

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to wake up from the nightmare. But Becky quickly brought me back to reality by lightly patting the underside of my thigh. “All done, sweetheart. Now let’s have the other leg.”

I resignedly lifted my left leg. Becky pulled it toward her and lathered it up. Almost seventeen long years to finally grow, I remember thinking, and it was all disappearing at the whims of this fiendish twosome.

As Becky started shaving my lower leg, she addressed me again, with a sparkle in her eye.

“I notice you’ve got some hair on your arms. You need to look pretty when you model your lingerie for us. That means no unsightly hair on the arms. I think you could use the practice, so you’ll be able to do this on your own next time. Brenda, give Blondie the razor—let him do his arms himself.”

“What a wonderful idea, Becky.” They were feeding off each other now. “But he has to ask nicely.”

I stared at them wide-eyed.

“Go on,” Brenda encouraged. "If you ask us very nicely then we’ll let you shave your own arms. If you don’t ask nicely, I’ll take care of it and maybe I’ll snip a few pubic hairs while I’m at it.”

I had reached a new low. Not only was I being rendered hairless, but I also had to beg to do the dirty deed myself. It took some resolve, but I pleaded in the nicest voice I could muster up under the circumstances.

“Brenda and Becky, could I please.…please, may I shave my arms?”

I couldn’t believe the words I had just spoken. Both girls laughed heartily at my latest debasement.

“Of course, darling,” Becky giggled, handing over the razor and shaving cream. “Make your arms silky smooth, just like a good little girl.”

Defeated, I lathered up and began shaving my left arm.

“That’s it, doll face,” said Brenda. “All the way up to the shoulder. We don’t want any stray boy hairs, do we? That’s a good girl, completely hairless,” she purred as I somehow turned a deeper shade of red.

By the time I was finished with both arms, Becky was done with my other leg. Brenda plucked the razor from my hand.

I couldn’t take my eyes off my now-hairless arms. I suppose I’d gotten so used to seeing that light layer of hair every day that the sudden change was a shock to my system. The skin looked so bare, so strangely delicate. It really sank in, in that moment, what they had done to me. I was mesmerized—until I was quickly pulled out of it by Brenda, who noticed my fascination.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” she cooed. “Just like a girlie’s arms. I’m dying to see how your pretty your legs look.”

She reached into the tub and pulled out the plug. The water slowly drained, and the “blub, blub” sound was quite ominous. In desperation, I plugged it with my heel.

“Now, now, Blondie,” warned Becky. “Don’t make me go get the scissors.”

I moved my foot away, and the water again started draining. “Please, you guys,” I appealed. I was near tears. “You’ve done enough, please go away and leave me alone.”

“Why, we’ve got to see the fruits of all our hard labor, don’t you think?” countered Becky.

I lay in the tub, staring at the ceiling, as the water made its inexorable disappearance down the drain. When all the water was gone, my body was covered with a layer of bubbles.

“Stand up, cutie pie,” Becky commanded. "Let’s spray you off so we can see how smooth you are.”

I stood, back turned to them, hands over my crotch. Becky had the hand-held showerhead in her grasp, and I felt the stream run from the top of my head and all the way down to my feet. The girls were oohing and ahhing at the sight.

“Ooh, Becky, great job on the legs! They’re adorable!” said Brenda as I felt her hand running up and down the back of my left thigh. Then, to my distress, I felt her hand running in a circular motion across my butt cheeks. “And his little buns are baby smooth, too What a doll!.”

“I know,” giggled Becky, “And I didn’t even have to shave there.”

While the girls burst into laughter, I stood there, utterly mortified, water streaming down my bare, silky skin. My sister and her best friend looked me over with gloating pleasure, like proud artists admiring a masterpiece they’d just finished.

“Okay, the moment of truth, cute cheeks,” Becky chirped, practically bouncing on her heels. “God, this is fun! Turn around, Blondie. Come on, snap to!" Her voice was sugary sweet, but unmistakably commanding.

I didn’t delay the inevitable any longer. I turned around, my hands still covering myself.

“Arms up high, girlie-boy,” she instructed. I hesitated for a split second.

“Come on, up, up, up!” she insisted, her tone playful but merciless.

With a deep sigh of surrender, I raised my arms over my head. The bubbles still clung to my skin, but we all knew that wouldn’t last. Becky turned to Brenda with a wicked grin.

“Would you like to do the honors, my dear?” she said, offering Brenda the showerhead.

“With pleasure,” Brenda grinned, taking it with glee. She aimed the spray at my face first, letting it cascade down my forehead, across my cheeks, and then over my now embarrassingly smooth underarms—which, of course, drew delighted giggles.

“Oh my god, this is too precious!” Becky squealed, clapping like she’d just unwrapped the best birthday gift ever.

“Doesn’t she have the cutest little clitty?” mocked Brenda. Both girls busted out with laughter at the gibe. I couldn’t imagine feeling more humiliated than I was at that moment.

“Okay, come on out, cutie pie,” Becky ordered, beckoning me with a finger. “Let’s dry you off.”

I stepped out of the tub. It seemed like I’d been in there for days. Brenda was waiting with a fluffy towel and a grin that stretched from ear to ear. She began gently patting me dry, treating me less like a person and more like a pampered little doll.


Their Plans for Me Revealed

While Brenda dabbed at my legs, Becky stood beside me with a glint in her eyes—and then dropped the bomb.

“Guess what, Blondie? We’re having a little slumber party tonight, and I think we might let you provide a little entertainment for us. Won’t that be fun? Joanna will be here, and Marcia, and Cheryl, and maybe a couple of others. You’d better be careful—I know Joanna and Marcia don’t like pubic hair on their young boys.

I froze.

"And if you’re really, really good, we might even invite Mitch.”

My eyes went wide. Becky smirked knowingly.

“Oh, come on. Don’t you think he’d love to see how pretty you look, all smooth and silky?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but no words came out. I didn’t want to even think of what type of entertainment my evil sister was referring to. And the reference to the pubic hair was disturbing. Keeping my pubic hair was the only positive I could take from the god-awful experience in the bathtub.

Brenda hung up the towel as Becky reached for a bottle of body lotion, dispensing a generous dollop into her palm.

“This will make your skin sooo soft. And you’ll smell nice and pretty, too.”

She began rubbing the lotion into my chest and stomach. Already the very feminine scent had taken over the room.

“Hold out your hands, sweet pea,” she said cheerfully.

I obeyed. Becky dispensed another healthy glob into my palms.

“Now rub it into your pretty arms and legs. Really massage it in, okay?”

I did so, and the smoothness I felt by touching myself served as a stark reminder of my new condition. It wasn’t just my appearance that had changed—it was the feel of me. Every inch of my body was smooth, scented, and soft. It was impossible to ignore. As my hands glided over my bare skin, I cringed at how delicate and feminine it felt. The silky texture under my own touch was completely foreign—unnerving, even—and knowing that it was all their doing only made it worse. I wasn’t just humiliated by what they’d done to me….I was humiliated by how it felt.

Brenda leaned in close and sniffed near my chest.

“Oh, Blondie, I’m telling you, you’re going to just drive Mitch wild!”

Both girls laughed heartily and led me out of the bathroom.

The moment I stepped into the hallway, I stopped dead in my tracks.

A full-length mirror.

I stared at my reflection, completely taken aback by what I saw. My skin shimmered slightly from the lotion, utterly bare of hair. I looked....delicate.

Brenda pounced on the moment. She guided me gently toward the mirror, lifting my arms and crossing them above my head. She slid her arms around my waist, cheek to cheek with me as we both stared at my reflection.

“See how lovely you look, sweetie?” she cooed, like she was admiring a piece of artwork.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I let my arms drop and looked away.

Becky took my right hand and started leading me toward her bedroom. “Come on, girlfriend,” she said, almost singing the words. “Just wait till you see what we’ve got picked out for you to wear tonight.”

And somehow, impossibly, I knew....

The worst was still to come.

[Blondie]

Chapter 18: Spanked and Pantied

Disciplined

I shivered in my nudity as my sister Becky led me by the hand down the hall toward her bedroom. Brenda playfully gave my bare backside a playful squeeze as she walked behind us. I instinctively swatted her hand away, and she just giggled with glee.

The two devilish girls were in their full glory, practically buzzing with delight, while I was sinking deeper into the depths of misery. Every inch of my body—except one very critical area, thank goodness—had been shaved smooth at the hands of the two witches. A scented lotion had been rubbed all over my body, as they seemed intent on humiliation through feminization.

And now I was facing the horror of a slumber party with their friends….with me as the night’s "entertainment." I didn’t even want to know what that meant.

Becky led me into her bedroom and released my hand, leaving me standing awkwardly in the center of the room. My hands immediately flew to cover my crotch.

Becky opened one of her dresser drawers and casually started rummaging through it, like she was picking out socks—except, much to my horror, she was fishing through her panty drawer.

“Let’s see, Blondie,” she said in that syrupy sweet voice. “Since you’re so intent on covering up your little bits, maybe we can help you out….ah, here we go, I think you’ll look quite stunning in these.” She held up a blindingly bright pink pair of panties and stretched them between both hands. “What do you think? Is this your color or what?”

The girls burst into laughter. I just stood there with a distressed, somewhat frightened look on my blushing face. My hands tightened a little bit on my privates, and I bent over slightly from the waist—my body practically broadcasting my shame.

“Please,” I implored. “Don’t do this to me.”

Of course, my appeal fell on deaf ears.

Becky knelt down, holding the panties open at my foot. “Step in, sweetie. Time to get ready for your guests.”

I started to comply—lifting my foot, just barely—before panic took over and I made a break for the door. I must have been delusional to think I could escape from my tormentors.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Brenda cautioned. “One phone call to my cousin and you’ll find yourself naked in public before you know what hits you.”

I stopped in my tracks. No need to remind the reader about Mitch and his threat. Suffice it to say, it was enough to have me completely under their control.

I turned back around, defeated. Brenda was perched on the bed now, patting her lap. “Get over here, little girly-boy,” she said, like a strict mom calling a naughty child.

I timidly walked over, covering myself the whole time, until she grabbed my wrist and pulled me down over her knees. She didn’t waste a second getting me into position—my bare ass cheeks propped up, as if they were begging to be slapped—and then came the first sharp smack.

To exacerbate my humiliation, Brenda scolded me while she went about the spanking. Methodically, each word coincided with an authoritative slap on my naked behind.

“How dare you disobey your sister like that!” she scolded, each word punctuated by a firm slap. “You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Oh, I was. I was beyond ashamed. And It was really starting to sting.

“Now get your little ass up and put your pretty panties on like the girlie boy you are!”

Count ‘em, that’s thirty-two bare-hand spanks, and they came in rapid succession. My backside felt like it was on fire.

Brenda, who obviously derived considerable enjoyment from her spontaneous discipline session, pushed me to the floor, where I landed in a heap.

I stumbled to my feet, wincing, clutching both ends like I didn’t know which to protect first. I hopped in place a few times, completely involuntarily, which just set the girls off in another fit of laughter.


Pantied

Becky was waiting with the panties, now looking even more triumphant. I approached her and lifted my foot again, resigned to my fate.

“That’s a good little girl, Blondie,” she said with a wink. I winced, both at my submission to being dressed in my sister’s panties, and at the use of the word “girl." Brenda smirked knowingly.

Becky tapped my shin and I lifted my other foot, allowing her to slip the other opening of the panties over my leg. She slowly, teasingly drew them up my legs. Then she let go and just stood there, grinning at me while they drooped around my thighs.

“You’re going to have to move your hands, sweetie, so we can pull your panties up,” she said.

I hesitated, then dropped my hands to my sides, mortified all over again. Even though they’d seen everything already, somehow standing there with pink panties dangling at my knees felt worse. Both girls were loving every second of my torment.

Becky sensed my extreme discomfort and pounced on it. Instead of pulling the panties up, she stood up and put her arm around her fiendish friend. They both stood there grinning at me, their eyes darting from my profusely blushing face to my genitals, to the panties, and back up again.

“Doesn’t she look adorable?” Brenda chirped.

I instinctively reached to cover myself again.

“Uh, uh uh,” admonished Becky, “No touching your little clitty.”

The diabolical girls giggled freely as I slumped my shoulders over the latest disparagement.

“Clasp your hands behind your head,” Brenda ordered. “That way you won’t be tempted to play with that little thing.”

I slowly obeyed, lacing my fingers behind my head. My smooth, bare underarms were now on full display—another humiliating detail the girls weren’t going to ignore.

Brenda slinked up beside me and ran her fingers up my side, then softly strummed my hairless armpit.

“So smooth,” she cooed. “So charming.”

I flinched, bringing my elbow down, which made her laugh even harder. She circled me slowly, eyes roaming over every inch of me.

“Hey Beck,” she called. “Come check out Blondie’s buns—they’re almost as red as his face.”

Becky eagerly joined in. “Oh, yes,” she agreed, rubbing my cheek gently. “And feel how warm they are.”

Now both girls had their hands on me, rubbing and stroking and making smug commentary the whole time.

“And check out his legs,” Brenda added, running a hand up my thigh. “Just look how smooth his pretty legs are.”

Two sets of hands stroked my legs. I winced yet again as I continued to endure the mockery from the relentless twosome. They were having the time of their lives, and all I could do was stand there helplessly, catering to their whims as their little plaything.

The sound of the doorbell momentarily interrupted their fun.


The Guests Arrive

“I’ll get it,” Brenda chirped, already halfway to the door. She turned back with a wicked grin. “Looks like your company’s starting to arrive, sweetheart. I think you’re going to make quite an impression tonight.”

She giggled to herself as she made her way to the front door, leaving me alone with my devilish sister.

“Isn’t this fun, Blondie?” Becky asked as she looked intently at me.

Without waiting for an answer that wasn’t forthcoming anyway, she knelt and pulled the panties the rest of the way up. She gave the waistband a playful snap against my belly, then stepped back to admire her work.

“Oh, too precious,” she murmured, adjusting the lace at the leg openings. “Precious.”

She took my hand and led me toward the mirror. “Come see, Blondie. You’ll just love it.”

I didn’t love it. I looked on in dejection at the sight in the mirror. With my youngish face, hairless body and flat chest, I could probably have passed for a prepubescent twelve-year-old girl if it wasn’t for my boyish haircut.

Becky, meanwhile, was beaming like she’d just won a prize.

Brenda poked her head in. “Joanna and….oh my gosh, how adorable,” she gasped when she saw me. "Joanna and Marcia are here. Want me to bring them in?”

“No,” answered Becky. “Just keep them company out in the living room. There’s beer and Prosecco in the refrigerator, so help yourselves. We’re almost ready. And tell them we have a surprise for them.”

Again they both giggled as Brenda exited the bedroom.

Becky turned to me. “Okay, my dear brother—or should I say ‘sister?’ We’ve got to find you something else to wear. You can’t meet your adoring fans in just your panties, you little slut.” Becky laughed at her own attempt at humor, as I stood transfixed at the mirror, extremely apprehensive about what was to come.

The doorbell rang again. “Oh, that must be Cheryl and Julie,” announced Becky. “You remember Julie, Blondie. She was the salesgirl that was so helpful to you at Victoria’s Secret on our little excursion to the mall.”

How could I possibly forget?

I remained silent and was now downright grim. Becky continued to tease me.

“I know she’ll love to see you in your pretty panties.”

I closed my eyes in anguish. Now there would be six—count ‘em, six girls to harass me.


Dressed for a Slumber Party

Becky opened another drawer and pulled out a long pink nylon nightgown.

“Here we go, pumpkin. You’re going to look just gorgeous in this,” she proclaimed as she held it up in front of me.

She slipped it over my head, and we watched in the the mirror as the hem floated down my body and dropped to the tops of my ankles. She adjusted the spaghetti straps on the shoulders.

“Oh! A perfect fit! You look so pretty in pink!”

I looked desolately at my reflection. My cheeks matched the color of the nightgown.

“Oh, God, Becky, please don’t make me go out there like this!” I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I pleaded desperately. “I can’t do this—I promise I’ll do anything. I’ll clean your room for the rest of my life, anything! PLEASE don’t make me go out there!”

With her response it struck me right then that she might be the devil incarnate. “I can have you clean my room anytime I want regardless,” was her icy reply. “Now let’s go, sweetie, we’ve kept your guests waiting long enough.”

She took my hand and pulled me toward the door. I resisted.

“Do you want your bare ass spanked in front of all those girls? Do you?"

I stopped resisting.

"You should be thankful that I was able to find such a pretty nightie for you. You’re the only one properly dressed for a slumber party. Now be a good girl, and let’s go greet your guests. And I expect your full cooperation for the rest of the night. Do I make myself clear?”

I said nothing as I was led out into the hallway. Becky stopped and turned toward me.

“I said, ‘Do I make myself clear?’”

“Yes,” I whispered, staring downward in shame.

Becky smiled in satisfaction at my submission. “Good,” she said. “Now let’s go introduce everyone to my darling new girlfriend. Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"”

While Becky giggled with glee I took a deep breath as we made the fateful walk down the hallway.

[Blondie]

Chapter 19: The Slumber Party Begins

A Reprimand from Becky

My anxiety was cresting as Becky led me by the hand down the hallway. With every step, the silky hem of the pink nightgown fluttered against my ankles, a reminder of just how far I'd fallen. The nylon material caressed my freshly shaven legs, sending a shiver up my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. I glanced down at my smooth, hairless arms and winced. There was no denying it—Becky and Brenda's attempts to sissify me had made an impression.

The sound of girlish chatter and laughter grew louder as we approached the clearing to the living room. I stopped in my tracks, extremely reluctant to continue. The right strap of the nightgown slipped off my shoulder and I reached up to fix it.

Becky was not pleased with my dawdling.

“I’m starting to lose patience with you, Blondie,” she warned, her voice unmistakably firm. “Look at me.”

I lifted my eyes to meet hers. She was inches from my face, wearing a stern expression that was undercut by the unmistakable glint of amusement in her eyes. That little smirk at the corner of her lips told the whole story—she was reveling in her power over me, and in my humiliation. She raised a finger and pointed it directly at my nose.

“This is your last warning, Blondie." Her voice had risen, and the banter in the living room had stopped. "Don’t make me put you over my knee and spank you in front of everyone. And trust me, I will lift your nightgown and yank your panties down if you make me go there. Is that what you want?”

There was an audible gasp from the living room, followed by a ripple of giggles. Apparently, the peanut gallery was very tuned in. I shook my head quickly, my face burning.

“No,” I mumbled.

She gave a satisfied nod. “Alright then, let’s go entertain our guests.”


Greeting the Guests

As I was escorted into the lion’s den—sorry, living room—I was met with an eruption of squeals and delighted shrieks from the assembled girls. Becky led me to the middle of the room and let go of my hand, stepping away and leaving me standing alone to be ogled by the entertained crowd. I stared down at the floor, cheeks flaming, as the laughter built around me. The girls seemed overcome with glee as I wallowed in my humiliation.

After a long, agonizing moment, Becky and Brenda flanked me and gently guided me toward the large, L-shaped couch, where the girls were seated in a loose semicircle. There were scattered beer cans, an open bottle of Prosecco, and way too many eyes on me.

“Come, come, Blondie dear,” Becky said sweetly, “Don’t be rude. Say hello to our guests.”

I still hadn’t looked up, but I could feel the presence of someone unfamiliar at the far end of the couch.

Becky started the introductions at the other side. “You remember Cheryl, don’t you, Blondie?”

Cheryl extended her hand, practically beaming. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Blondie,” she said, her grin wicked. “That’s a lovely nightgown you’ve got on.”

I stayed silent, which earned me a quick scolding.

“I told you not to be rude,” Becky said, grabbing my chin between her fingers and turning my head toward hers. “Now thank Cheryl for her nice compliment.”

“Thank you, Cheryl,” I managed, voice barely audible. Cheryl smiled and a couple of the girls snickered.

Becky led me to the next girl, and it became apparent that part of my humiliation would be to formally greet each of the guests.

“Say hello to your good friend Marcia,” she instructed.

“Hi, Marcia,” I said robotically.

Marcia stood and planted a loud, wet kiss on my cheek. “Hello, Blondie! I’m so glad you could join our little slumber party.” There was silence, so I felt compelled to respond, to avoid another reprimand.

“Thank you,” I squeaked. This only brought on more giggling from the amused guests. Somehow my face flushed brighter.

I felt Brenda tugging on my right elbow, leading me to the next guest. I looked at the grinning face of Joanna. Becky prodded me by pressing her elbow to my side. I offered a meek, “Hi, Joanna.”

She just sat there grinning at me, saying nothing. Again I felt Becky’s elbow digging into my side. I didn’t know what was expected of me, but I knew I had to say something.

“I’m glad you could make it,” I blurted out.

There was laughter all around. Joanna continued to torment me by looking me up and down with the same shit-eating grin on her face. I was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable, if that was possible.

“How have you been?” I continued, now feeling ridiculous.

At this point Joanna could hold back no longer, and broke out into convulsive laughter, which was shared by everyone else in the room at my expense. My face turned redder.

“Oh Blondie,” she gasped between laughs, “We are going to have so much fun with you tonight!”

I cringed, knowing this was all too true.

Then came Julie—the salesgirl from Victoria’s Secret—and her wide smile. I glanced to her left, and sitting next to her was the girl I didn’t recognize. To my chagrin, she looked like she was about eleven or twelve years old. My humiliation was going to be bad enough, but somehow this treatment before a much younger girl just exacerbated my anxiety. I didn’t have time to dwell on it, as Becky directed my attention to the salesgirl.

Becky gestured. “I know you remember Julie.”

How could I not? That infamous mall visit left an indelible impression on me.

“Good evening, Blondie,” Julie said, extending her hand. “It’s so nice to see you again. I must say, you’ve taken to girls' clothes quite enthusiastically! I don’t recognize this piece, though. Have you been shopping somewhere other than my store?”

I fumbled for an answer. “Uh, I think this is Becky’s,” I responded weakly.

Julie gave a playful shrug. “No worries. I brought some fresh samples for you to try on.” She gestured toward a “VS” tote bag on the floor. “Maybe later you can model some of them for us.”

I didn’t answer, and again felt an elbow digging into my side, a little harder this time. “Yes, uh…thanks,” I eked out the response. The evening was getting worse and worse.

Before I could retreat into the couch cushions, she turned to the unfamiliar girl beside her.

“Blondie, meet my sister, Felicity. Felicity, this is the famous Blondie.”

“Nice to meet you,” I forced out as I shook her hand.

The little girl stood up and reached out with her right hand with an overly bright smile. “No, it really is my pleasure, Blondie,” she grinned. “My sister has told me all about you, and I’ve just been dying to meet you.”

I sensed a degree of precocity in the girl and had an uneasy feeling that it didn’t bode well for me.

Julie grinned. “It’s Felicity’s thirteenth birthday today. Brenda called me earlier and told me that you would be entertaining us tonight, and when I told Felicity she....well, let's just say that it's the most excited I've seen her in a long time. Doesn’t that make you feel special, Blondie?” Everyone giggled with delight and waited for my answer.

“Very special,” I muttered sarcastically through gritted teeth. The girls again laughed, taking pleasure in my misery.

“Wish her a happy birthday,” Becky chirped.

“Happy birthday,” I said, not even trying to sound enthusiastic.

“Why thank you, Blondie. You’re such a sweetheart,” Felicity said. I remember thinking that this girl really spelled trouble.


Staving Off Exposure

Becky clapped her hands. “Who needs a beer?”

This effectively ended the formal greetings. As she disappeared into the kitchen, I was left standing awkwardly—until Joanna tugged me down between her and Marcia. There was no question as to who the center of attention would be.

“Oooh, Blondie,” Marcia purred, running her fingers along my bare arm . “Your arms are so nice and smooth. Joanna, feel Blondie’s arm, it’s so smooth and silky.”

Joanna eagerly obliged. “You’re right, Marcia, soft as velvet. Are you like this everywhere?” She reached for the nightgown hem, but I managed to fend her off.

“Oh, you’re such the bashful one, Princess” she giggled. “Maybe later we can see if you’re this smooth all over.”

I cringed, both at the usage of “Princess” and the thought of what may lay in store for me.

Again she stroked my arm while planting a playful kiss on my cheek. “Whatcha sportin’ down below?” Joanna was on a roll now and there was no stopping her. She put her hand on my waist and felt around for my underwear.

“Let me guess, you’re wearing a pretty pair of panties, aren’t you?” Indeed, she was fiddling with the elastic of the panties (notice how I can’t bear to call them my panties?) through the nightgown.

I squirmed, trying to wriggle out of reach.

Joanna’s grin became wider, and she raised her voice in exultation. “I think he’s wearing panties, girls! Are you, Princess? Are you wearing panties? Come on, little sissy-boy, you can tell Auntie Joanna, are you wearing your pretty little panties under there?” Again she motioned to pull up the nightgown, and again I fought her off.

“Please, just leave me alone!” I begged. I was on the verge of tears but managed to hold them back. I certainly didn’t need to give them more ammunition to tease me with.

Brenda interceded, and it was to my detriment. “Why don’t you tell us all what you’re wearing under your nightgown, sweetheart.”

I knew better than to challenge Brenda. There were a few moments of silence, as I had considerable trouble vocalizing the word.

“P-panties,” I finally said, very softly.

“I’m sorry, what was that? Speak up, dear, so we can all hear you,” Brenda said sweetly.

“Panties!” I screamed out, almost defiantly. Laughter was abounding.

Joanna pounced on the moment. “What color are they, Princess?”

I fidgeted nervously. “Pink,” I mumbled.

“Do you like wearing your pretty pink panties? Hm? Do they make you excited?” She tried to reach for my penis, but I pulled her hand away. Everyone was laughing, rollicking at Joanna’s taunting. “Well, do you, Princess? Do you get off on wearing your sissy panties?”

“Please, no…”

“Oh, you say no, but you mean yes, don’t you? Say it. Say, ‘I love wearing my pretty pink panties, it makes my little clitty all excited.’ Say it, Princess.” The giggling among her cohorts was building toward a crescendo.

Cheryl was nearly in tears from laughing. “Oh, Joanna, you’re wicked!”

I knew there would be no letup until I relented. I took a deep breath and uttered the painful words. “I love wearing my pink panties.” That was all I could muster, and it didn’t satisfy my tormentor.

“They’re ‘pretty’ pink panties, Princess," persisted Joanna. "Say it, and tell us why you love wearing them.”

I really wanted to cry now. I closed my eyes tightly and said in a quivering voice, “I love wearing my pretty…my pretty pink panties…because it makes my c-clitty…my little clitty… all excited.”

The laughter was more boisterous than ever, and my cheeks were as warm as can be.


Led Away by Julie and Felicity

After the laughter subsided, Julie rose and picked up her bag. “Come with me, Blondie, and we can have you slip into something a little more comfortable.”

I looked up at Becky with a pleading look on my face, somehow hoping she would intervene.

“What are you looking at me for, girlfriend?” she teased. “You heard Julie. Scoot!”

As I got up from the couch I felt a pinch on my rear end. I brushed Joanna’s hand away, catching a glimpse of her devilish grin as I did.

“Felicity, would you like to join us?” Julie asked.

“Indubitably,” Felicity chirped, springing to her feet—all too enthusiastically, from my perspective.

Julie laughed, saying, “I assume that means ‘yes.’ ”

Julie looped an arm around my shoulder as she led me toward the bedroom, the eager Felicity close behind.

“Isn’t she just too smart for her own good, Blondie?” asked Julie.

I didn’t answer. I was hardly in the mood to engage in dialogue.

When we reached the hallway, Julie squeezed me closer to her and put her mouth to my left ear, tickling it as she spoke. “Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll be gentle,” she said in a soft, throaty voice.

The salesgirl and her precocious little sister giggled heartily as they led me to Becky's bedroom, where further humiliation undoubtedly loomed.

[Blondie]

Chapter 20: Petticoated

A Peek Inside the Panties

Julie led me through the hallway and into Becky’s bedroom with her right arm around my bare shoulders. In her other hand she carried a large Victoria’s Secret tote bag. Felicity, her spunky little sister, followed closely behind.

Julie let go of me in the middle of the room and continued walking, laying the bag on the double bed. I remained where I was, still feeling quite ashamed in the panties and long nightgown. Felicity stood facing me with a grin on her face, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

“Is this where we get to make Blondie get naked?” she asked, eyes glued to my mortified face.

Julie let out a delighted laugh as she rummaged through her bag. “You really are something, aren’t you, little sister?” Julie responded with a giggle. “You turn thirteen, have your first beer, and now you want to see your first naked boy.” She paused for effect. “Hang in there, birthday girl, you’ll get your chance.”

Julie continued going through her bag. “Let’s see now, what have we got in here for our little girlfriend?” I turned my head slowly towards the bed, dreading what I was about to see. My dread was not unfounded.

"Ah, here we go. He’ll look just divine in this,” as she pulled out a little girl’s party dress and held it up for us to see. It was baby blue, with a short, wide skirt and short, puffy sleeves. I was aghast as my eyes widened and my mouth opened in horror.

“Oh please,” I pleaded. My body language spoke volumes as I folded my arms across my chest and slumped my shoulders. “I can’t wear that out there. Please…”

“Nonsense, sweetie,” Julie answered cheerfully. “Think about it, you’re at a girl’s party, you’re the center of attention, you look like a little girl…it’s only fitting that you should wear a festive little girl’s party dress.”

She draped the dress on a hanger and hung it on the back bedpost, then started sifting through her bag again. I couldn’t take my eyes off the dress, as I was almost awestruck at its significance. The next words from Julie’s mouth diverted my attention.

“Felicity, would you like to help Blondie out of his nightie so we can get him ready?”

Julie watched our reactions closely. One was of utter anguish and the other of extreme delight.

“You betcha!” squealed Felicity, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she reached for the spaghetti straps of the nightgown and pulled them off my shoulders.

I instinctively recoiled, with my arms firmly across my chest.

“Don’t make me come over there, Blondie,” scolded Julie. “If you know what’s good for you…”

“I got this,” Felicity interrupted with confidence, wagging her finger in my face. “Okay, Blondie. Either you lower your arms and cooperate with me right this instant or I’ll call the girls in here and the seven of us will take off your nightgown, pull down your panties and take turns putting you over our knees and giving you an embarrassing spanking that you’ll never forget. Then you’ll model your pretty new party dress for us anyway. So it’s your choice: You can play nice and make this easy or you can be obstinate and earn yourself a humiliating spanking. Either way,” she said as she pointed at the dress, “You’re going to be wearing that dress when it’s all said and done. Now which way would you like it?”

The precocious little thing was a monster.

I glanced quickly over at Julie, who was beaming at her younger sister’s performance.

I bowed my head and lowered my arms in subjection.

“That’s more like it,” Felicity chirped, thoroughly satisfied with herself.

She gently tugged the straps from my shoulders and let go, stepping back to witness the natural descent of the nightgown as it pooled around my ankles. The tips of the fingers of both of her hands sprang to her lips as she let out a squeal of delighted disbelief at the sight of me—smooth legs and all, trembling, and wearing nothing but a pair of pink panties.

“Oh, my goodness!” she gasped, absolutely tickled.

I could only cover myself with my hands, cheeks blazing.

“Well, well, what have we here?” asked Julie rhetorically as she approached me with a demonic grin on her face. Up until then she had been just a very interested spectator. That was about to change. She knelt and lifted my feet one at a time to separate me from the nightgown.

“My, my, look at these pretty legs,” she observed, brushing her fingers up my calf in a slow, appraising stroke. “Felicity, come feel how smooth Blondie’s legs are.”

Of course, the little fiend didn’t need any further prodding.

“Ooh, you’re right, Julie,” she cooed as she stroked my other leg. “They’re so smooth and pretty, like silk.”

I wanted to die on the spot.

Julie stood and ran her hands across the seat of my panties, her expression devilish. “And such darling panties, too. Do you like your panties, Blondie?” she teased.

I said nothing, staring miserably at the floor.

She raised her arms and interlaced her fingers behind her head, elbows wide. “Go like this, Blondie, I want to see something.”

I hesitated, but I knew there was no use resisting. I complied. Julie giggled.

“Just as I thought—not a hair anywhere,” she said as she looked at my smooth underarms.

I stood there, frozen, helpless, and exposed—just the way they liked me.

“Stand up straight, and don’t you dare move your hands—I want to see one more thing,” Julie warned with a devilish glint in her eye.

To my horror, she hooked her finger into the front of the panties and pulled the waistband outward, then peered in. Her smirk widened. “Well, at least you’ve got some hair,” she teased, before letting the elastic snap back. She turned, chuckling, and sauntered back toward the bed.

“I wanna see, I wanna see!” Felicity chimed in gleefully.

I drew back my hips as Felicity reached for the elastic. The notion of the thirteen-year-old looking at my private parts against my will was just too much.

“Blondie?” she warned with an admonishing look.

I stood straight and submitted to the mischievous sprite. Eyes squeezed shut, I braced myself as I felt the elastic pull away again. Her hair tickled my stomach as she peered down. I kept my eyes closed, but the vision of her staring down the panties was fixed in my head.

After an agonizingly long time, the elastic snapped back.

“Well, little sister?” Julie asked, clearly enjoying the show.

Felicity beamed. “It looks just like Joey’s, except Joey has no hair.”

Julie laughed boisterously and walked over to me, addressing me while looking me in the eyes. “In case you’re wondering, Blondie, Joey’s our little brother. He’s ten.” Both girls laughed uproariously, while I blushed crimson.

“I assume it’s supposed to get bigger as boys get older. Right, Blondie?” Felicity directed the question at me, but I didn’t answer. She knew she had struck a nerve, and she milked it for all it was worth. “How old are you, Blondie?” she persisted. She stared at me, waiting for an answer. I answered, hoping to speed the interaction to a conclusion.

“Sixteen,” I said softly while averting my eyes from her.

“Well, except for the hair, you look like you’re ten, judging from what’s inside your panties.” Both girls laughed again as I turned yet another shade of red.


The Petticoat

“Okay,” Julie said, clapping her hands together. “Time to get you dressed.” She again started sorting through her bag of tricks. “Ah, here we are,” she said with a look of satisfaction. She pulled out a medium-sized, bluish nylon bag, tied with a string at the top. I looked on with angst as she started untying the string. She continued teasing me as she reached into the bag.

“Do you know what it means to be ‘petticoated,’ Blondie?” she asked sweetly. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

“It’s an old-fashioned term for putting a boy in girls’ clothes, usually against his will,” she continued, pulling out something white, fluffy, and terrifying. “In this case, you’re about to be petticoated in the literal sense.”

Much to my chagrin, the grinning Julie pulled the garment free from the nylon bag, and a very frilly petticoat came into view, its skirt having expanded considerably after being removed from its confinement. She held it up, and upon noticing my look of consternation, she waltzed over to me and cupped my chin in her hand.

“Don’t worry, sweetie," she teased. "You’ll look gorgeous in your new finery. Little girls can’t expect to wear their party dress without their petticoat,” Julie cooed, pinching my cheek before handing the garment to her sister.

“Felicity, darling, would you like to do the honors?”

“Oh, yes please!” Felicity replied, practically bouncing with excitement.

She lifted it over my head and tugged it down, adjusting the shoulder straps and fluffing out the skirt. She stepped back and looked me up and down.

“Oh my gosh! You must come see, Blondie!” She grabbed my hand and led me to the full-length mirror.

What stared back at me was a very red-faced sixteen-year-old boy adorned in a frilly, fluffy, short white petticoat that flared out like an umbrella, short and poofy and horrifically feminine. I stared at myself in disbelief.

Julie appeared at my other side. “Oh, he looks adorable,” she purred. “What do you think, Blondie, are you getting in touch with your feminine side?”

I shook my head, eyes wide with disbelief. They just giggled.

“Come, my petticoated one,” Julie teased, leading me back to the bed. “Let’s finish your outfit.”

The petticoat made an audible swish-swish as I walked, adding to my mortification. Julie patted the mattress, gesturing for me to sit. I did, and instantly regretted it as the skirt shot up high, prompting another delighted squeal from Felicity. She ducked down, trying to peek underneath. Mortified, I clamped my knees together and pressed the petticoat down with both hands—realizing to my disgust I had just done exactly what a little girl would’ve done. Felicity noticed.

“What’s the matter, Blondie?” she teased. “Don’t want me to see your panties?”

“Let’s finish dressing our little sweetheart,” Julie laughed, plopping beside me.

My humiliation continued as I was being treated like a little girl, unable to dress herself. Julie picked up my foot and laid it on her thigh, slipping a frilly white anklet onto it. “Just like the ones Becky and Brenda had you wear at the mall, remember?” she said sweetly. “You should feel right at home in these, sweetheart."

Here, Felicity,” she said as she handed the other sock to her sister. “Do me a favor and put this on our little friend here while I put on her shoes. I grimaced at hearing Julie refer to me as a “her.”

While Felicity worked the other anklet on my right foot, Julie produced a shiny, black, patent leather pull-on shoe with a buckle. She must have noticed the look of despair on my face.

“What’s the matter, Princess, don’t you like your pretty new Mary Janes?" she asked, voice syrupy sweet. "They’re brand new. Becky told me your size, and it looks like they're a perfect fit.” She handed the other shoe to Felicity, who eagerly applied it on my other foot, and once I was buckled in, she took my hand again.

“Let’s go see, Blondie!” she squealed merrily.

Back at the mirror, a distraught, red-faced boy in a petticoat stared back at me, only this time he was wearing frilly anklets and little girls' shoes.

“Stay right here while I go get your dress,” ordered Felicity.


The Little Girls’ Party Dress

Before I could recover, she was already sliding the baby blue party dress down over my head. I watched with incredulity as the hem of the dress dropped down, coming to a halt about an inch above the petticoat. Julie zipped me up from the back while Felicity fussed with the sleeves and hem.

Then came the pièce de résistance—Julie pinning a giant baby-blue bow to the top of my head. She adjusted it with precision until it stuck out just right. I wanted to sink through the floor.

“Ohhh, Blondie,” Julie sang. “You look absolutely angelic!”

Both girls began fiddling with the dress, adjusting the sleeves and the hem of the dress to their liking. I was utterly miserable as I stood there and took in the latest humiliation. But it wasn’t over.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” exclaimed Julie as she spun toward her bag. “Felicity, would you be a dear and help Blondie out of her panties? I’ve got something much more appropriate for a little girl.”


Ruffled Panties

Felicity was all too happy to comply. I felt violated as she kneeled, reached up my dress (oh my God, I just called it my dress—I mean the dress), and in one swift motion pulled the panties down to my ankles. I involuntarily flinched at the invasion.

I flinched again when she reached under the petticoat to peek. She looked up at me and grinned, while I blushed redder again.

Just then I saw the reflection of a new pair of panties being stretched out by Julie above my head. They were very frilly, with ruffles across the rear.

“Time for your frou-frous, little girl,” giggled Julie as she kneeled at my feet. I complied subserviently by lifting my feet (hey, what else could I do at this point?), and she pulled the little girlish panties up my legs.

When she was done, she gave me a gentle, cheeky squeeze between the legs, causing me to jump and let out a high-pitched squeal. It was like a little girl’s squeal. Both girls howled with laughter.

Julie then turned me around, so my back was facing the mirror. “Turn your head and take a look, sweetie,” Julie directed.

I did so, and to my dismay I noticed that a couple of layers of ruffles from the panties showed below the petticoat and dress. When I tried to tug the dress down, it popped right back up.

“They’re going to love your pretty frou-frous, Princess,” Julie grinned.

I winced, realizing that even more of the panties would show as I walked around, not to mention how many layers would be exposed if I bent over. I tried to repel it, but a tiny tear started rolling down my cheek. Julie, feigning compassion, stepped in close and gently wiped it away.

“I think she’s shy about showing off her pretty new get-up, Felicity. “Don’t cry, little girl,” she said. “They’re going to love your pretty dress. You’ll be a big hit, I promise.”

I embarrassed myself even more, as the harder I fought the tears, the more they came. “Please… don’t make me go out there like this,” I begged, voice cracking.

But Julie just smiled. “Now, now,” she said, as she took my hand. “I think the best medicine for you is to go out to the party and play with your friends. Felicity, take her other hand."

“No, please!” I whimpered.

But the door was opening, and I was being led forward—petticoat swishing—as they pulled their reluctant little doll toward the party.

“Please, no!” I begged. The two of them tried to lead me through the doorway. I just couldn’t go through with it, and I held back, resisting the tug on my hands.


A Spanking

“All right, that does it, I’ve had just about enough of you, young lady!” Julie yelled at me, as if she was really upset. In retrospect, I think she was looking for an excuse to spank me. She reached over to the dresser and grabbed a hairbrush.

“Pull up her petticoat, Felicity.”

“No, please!” I yelped in protest, but Felicity was already behind me, happily flipping up the fluffy white layers.

“Pull down her panties,” Julie said.

“No! Nooo!”

My pleas just added fuel to their fire as Felicity yanked the panties down to my knees and held the petticoat up my back. I knew that to resist any more would only make matters worse.

I barely had time to breathe before—Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Six sharp blows in quick succession from the back of the hairbrush smacked against my ass, three on each cheek. It took a few short seconds for the pain to register, but when it did.…man, I’m here to tell you that it throbbed furiously.

“Ow!-Ow!-Ow!-Ow!” I squealed, hopping in place while cradling my butt cheeks with both hands. The girls burst into peals of laughter. I must’ve looked completely ridiculous—jumping up and down like that, with frilly panties dangling at my knees, and the petticoat and dress raising up and down with each jump.

When the pain finally began to subside, I pulled the panties back up with shaky hands. Julie wiped a tear from her eye—from laughing too hard.

“Oh, God, Blondie, that was too funny. I’m sorry the girls missed that one." She leaned in with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Now, are you ready to come join the party or do we have to discipline you further?” There was silence. “Answer me, Blondie.”

“I…I’m ready,” I replied subserviently.

“That’s a good girl. Now let’s get you fixed up—your bow’s gone crooked, and you’ve wrinkled your pretty petticoat.”

Like a doting big sister, Julie gently fluffed the skirt, straightened the anklets, and adjusted the baby-blue bow in my hair. She used the hairbrush to straighten my hair, though it was fairly short. When she spotted a stray tear, she brushed it from my cheek with the front of her index finger.

“There, there, sweetheart, everything will be okay,” she teased. “Soon everyone will get to see just how precious you look.”

That didn’t help.

"Let’s not keep them waiting any longer, sugar pie."

Julie took one hand, and Felicity the other. This time I didn’t resist, and I was led through the hallway in my wretchedness. When we entered the living room—well, I’m sure you can well imagine the uproar. The shrieks of surprise and delight were almost deafening.

“Oh my God!”

“Look at him!”

“He’s such a sissy!”

“Oh, shit, this is too much!”

“Look at that pretty little dress!”

“And that petticoat!”

"And those smooth, girly legs!”

“How adorable!”

“Poor little baby, she’s been crying!”

I can’t really remember who said what, but the scornful comments went on for a while as I stood alone in the middle of the living room, so humiliated that I just stood transfixed, face throbbing with embarrassment, unable to move a muscle.

After the noise subsided somewhat, the girls really started having their fun….

* * * * * *

I’ve really gone on much longer than I intended to, and it’s been painful enough, so I’m not going to go into detail of what went on for the next hour or so. But here’s a quick rundown of what I was made to do while dolled up in that wretched party dress—and yes, two separate threats of a bare-assed spanking did get me moving when I hesitated:

—Curtsy to each girl—lifting the dress and petticoat high enough to flash my panties each time.

—Play “Patty-Cake” with Marcia (who insisted we do the full routine—twice).

—Perform the entire “Hokey Pokey,” frilly skirt bouncing with every twist.

—Perform “I’m a Little Teapot.”

—Stand in the middle of the room holding up the petticoat while the giggling girls made mocking comments on the panties and my “pretty” legs.

I think you get the picture. It was total, unrelenting humiliation.

Unfortunately, the night was still young, and the sadistic seven, who were in their glory, had plenty more degradations in store for me.

Next time around, when I gather up the courage to give another account, I’ll tell you how I was rendered naked by the precocious, demonic Felicity.

I will tell you this much right now: I’d gladly take the petticoat treatment again over what came next.

[Blondie]

Chapter 21: Felicity

Alone with a Little Devil

While I was being put through my paces in the awful party dress, I noticed with a bit of trepidation that Julie was reaching for the dreaded bag again.

“Come with me, Blondie,” Julie said, casually heading for the hallway that led to Becky’s bedroom. Her voice was cheerful, almost singsong. “Care to join us again, Felicity?”

I winced. My humiliation was bad enough, but somehow this precocious thirteen-year-old’s involvement added an extra edge to it.

“Yes, I’d love to,” the little menace chirped, practically bouncing on her heels. But then, she tilted her head with an expression that had “trouble” written all over it. “Actually, Julie….could I ask for a little favor?”

“What’s that?” wondered Julie, with a look of curiosity on her face.

“Um….if you could offer me this boon for my birthday….I’d really, really like to take Blondie back there by myself. You know….so we can get to know each other better,” she teased while staring me down with a sly grin.

Julie threw her head back and laughed. “Why, you little devil, you,” laughed Julie. “Well, sure, you can have your little birthday ‘boon,’ as you called it. I don’t know where you come up with these words. I think Blondie would love to have you all to himself. Wouldn’t you, Blondie?”

I just stood there with a wretched look on my face. Everyone giggled.

“Oh yes, Blondie is just delighted. Now toddle along, you two. And take your time, enjoy yourselves.” More giggles. “And Blondie, I’m warning you: We’d better not hear anything about you being uncooperative. It’s Felicity’s special night, and you’re going to do anything she asks. Got it?”

I gulped and gave a small, miserable nod.

“Look at that face,” Julie grinned. “He’s thrilled. Off you go!”

“Come with me, Blondie,” said Felicity eagerly as she took me by the hand. She took the bag from Julie with her free hand and led me down the hallway.

The next hour would prove to be nearly unbearable.

* * * * * *

Felicity wasted no time once we entered the bedroom.

“Sit,” she commanded, patting the bed next to the dreaded bag. “Let’s get you undressed.”

With extreme apprehension over what lay in store for me, I sat on the bed. My feet dangled above the carpet, making it easier for her to kneel and begin with my shoes.

“Isn’t this great, Blondie?” she said sweetly while fiddling with the buckles. “Just the two of us? It’ll really give us a chance to get to know each other, don’t you think?”

I remained silent. The last thing I felt like doing during this godawful experience was engaging in conversation with this fiend. But she had other ideas. She stood up and pointed her index finger at my face.

“Now listen, Blondie, when I speak to you I expect the courtesy of a response. In case you haven’t noticed, there are two of us in this room, and I don’t plan on carrying on a monologue.”

Oh, this is really going to be hell.

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I understand,” I said sullenly without looking at her.

She kneeled back down and went to work on the shoes and socks. She picked up right where she left off. “So, tell me a little bit about yourself.”

Both shoes were off now, and she deliberately began rolling one of the anklets down my foot.

“Uh…uh…what do you want to know?” I couldn’t believe I had to carry on the dialogue while being methodically stripped by a girl three years my junior.

“Oh, you know, what are your likes? Your dislikes? Pretty soon I’m going to be quite familiar with what you’ve got on the outside. I’d like to get to know you on the inside.”

She giggled to herself. One sock was removed, and she started working on the other one. I was miserable.

I pushed myself to do her bidding. “Um, I like sports. I like to play basket…please, I can’t do this.”

She persisted. “What kind of music do you like?” I was barefoot now, and she took my hand to pull me up. “Stand up, let’s get your dress off.” I stood up and felt her hand working the zipper down from the back of my neck. “Answer me, Blondie.”

“I like…rock and roll.”

“Oh, me, too! See, we have something in common. Do you like to dance?” The zipper was all the way down now. “Hold your arms up.” I raised my arms above my head, and she slowly started pulling the dress up. “Keep talking to me, Blondie. Do you like to dance?”

“No, not really,” I replied despondently. I really didn't like where she was going with this.

“Aww, that’s too bad. I’d love to see you dance for us in one of Julie’s outfits. It’s my birthday—do you think you can dance for me tonight?” The prospect horrified me, but I had to be cooperative.

“We’ll see,” I said.

“Oh, that will be a treat," she said while clapping her hands together. "I’ll bet you’re a good dancer.” She paused and took in the wretched expression on my face, which only egged her on. "Maybe we can take all your clothes off and you can perform a naked dance for me," she said excitedly.

I couldn't think of anything more humiliating. "No, please....." I said, my voice trailing off.

"Oh, Blondie, I'm going to have so much fun with you," she said. "This is the best birthday present ever!"

She pulled the dress completely off and left me standing there in the petticoat, face burning.

She stepped in front of me and gazed at me, grinning widely. “How delightful. You really do blush like a little girl.”

Putting both hands on my shoulders, she eased the straps of the petticoat down my biceps, starting its leisurely descent. “Tell me about your experience with my sister in her store at the mall. I heard such delicious things.”

“W-what do you want to know?” I was stalling. I really didn’t want to relive that humiliation, especially under those circumstances.

“Everything,” she answered fervently. “I’ve heard the story from Julie, but it would mean so much more coming from you.”

The petticoat was now at my waist, leaving me bare-chested. Felicity knelt to continue with matters at hand. I looked down to see the garment being pulled further down, exposing the frilly panties. Felicity had an impassioned look on her face. She looked like she was having the time of her young life.

"Tell me!" she pressed.

“Um…well…um…they made me…”

”Who made you?” she interrupted.

“B-Becky and Brenda…they made me go to Victoria’s Sec…please, you know the story.”

The petticoat was now bundled at my feet, its expanse of lace rising halfway up my shins. I folded both hands over the crotch of the panties, feeling my modesty being severely threatened.

“Continue!”

“Th-they made me try on different stuff.” I had trouble continuing the charade.

Felicity was lifting one of my legs up and out of the petticoat. “Tell me more, sweetie. Tell me what they made you try on.”

“A t-teddy…then a bra and p-p…”

I couldn’t say the word. At that moment, the petticoat was being pulled off my other leg, leaving me standing there in..….yes, a pair of panties.

As Felicity stood up, she prodded me on. “Go ahead, you tried on a bra and…?” She tossed the petticoat on the bed and stood back and grinned wickedly at me.

“Panties,” I said, very quietly.

She clapped her hands. “Yes! Julie told me you looked quite darling, just like you do now. She said your face was fire engine red. Does your face feel as hot now as it did then, Blondie?” She was the devil in disguise.

“Yes,” I answered as I looked at the floor, shamefaced.

“Go like this.” She made two fists and put both hands on her hips, elbows pointing to the sides. I struck the pose.

She walked around me slowly, drinking it all in. “Oh my. Look at you. Just adorable. But.…” She trailed a finger down my tummy, stopping at the waistband. “….these are going to have to come off so you can model your next outfit.”

She reached for the waistband of the panties, studying me intently. She got the reaction she wished for as I involuntarily retracted my hips, eliciting a knowing smile from her lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I forgot how much you love your pretty panties. Well, there’s no hurry. We’ll save that for later. For now, we need to find you something cute to wear.”

She opened the bag and sorted through it. “You know, this is a slumber party, and you really should be dressed accordingly. Maybe a pair of pajamas is appropriate. We’ll call it a pajama party.” She held up a very feminine peach-colored pajama set. “Would you like to wear these, sweetie?” I didn’t show much reaction—though, all things considered, it wouldn’t have been so bad. At least they offered a lot of coverage.

“They’re okay,” I replied.

“Or how about this?” She pulled out a scanty pink nylon babydoll and held it up to me. I observed uneasily that it would barely cover my genitals. Felicity sensed my apprehension; she was perceptive beyond her years. “Okay, I’ll give you the choice: the pjs or the babydoll. You pick.”

I didn’t hesitate. “The pjs.”

I should have known better than to expect any compassion from the little monster. “Oh, you silly boy,” she laughed as she tossed the pajamas back into the bag and lifted the babydoll high. “You’re quite the shy one, aren’t you? We don’t want to hide those pretty, girly legs from all your guests, now, do we?” She clutched the babydoll to her chest and gave me a wink.

“Now come here, sweetie. It’s time to take off your panties.


Taking Down the Panties

“Hmm, how shall we do this? Shall I take them down, or would you like to do it yourself?”

In retrospect, I should have just ripped the damn things off right on the spot, thus avoiding further anguish. But the idea of being naked in front of this girl was more than I could stomach at the time. Some desperate part of me still held out hope for mercy. “Please….” I murmured, my voice barely audible.

“I get the distinct impression that you don’t want me to see you naked, Blondie.” Felicity glared at me with a menacing smile.

I didn’t respond, eyes glued to the carpet. My silence only energized her more.

“Why is that, Blondie?” Again, I didn’t answer. That didn’t slow her down. She was thriving now, thoroughly enjoying my anguish. “What’s the big deal? I’ve already looked down your panties and saw your little thingy, remember? I told you it looked just like my little brother Joey’s, except you have hair.” I was blushing crimson now, and she went in for the kill. “And the more you blush, the more fun I have. Why is that, Blondie?”

I snapped. “Because you’re a fucking bitch!” I screamed at her without thinking.

Her face remained impassive, but I knew I’d made a big mistake. “You’ll be sorry you said that, Blondie. I’ll deal with your punishment before we go back out there, but for now I can tell you that if there are any more outbursts then I’ll have to inform the girls that you’re not cooperating. Would you like me to do that, Blondie?”

“No,” I muttered.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

My heart plummeted. Oh, no. Not another guest!

Felicity didn’t miss the look of dismay on my face. “Oh boy, Blondie, it looks like you might have another visitor. We’d best get these panties off now and get you ready." With that she pulled out a stool from near the dresser and set it in the middle of the room. “Step up here, sweetie, so I won’t have to bend over when I pull your panties down.”

Feeling utterly defeated, I stepped up, facing her. My hands instinctively cupped the small bulge in the panties as she stood grinning, eye-level with my humiliation.

Felicity grasped the hem on each side with her fingers, and held them there, teasing me. She looked up expectantly. “It’s time, Blondie. It’s the moment we’ve been waiting for. Isn’t this fun?” I had no answer. “I’m doing all the talking now, Blondie, and I don’t appreciate it. Now, be a good boy and ask me nicely to take down your panties.”

I nearly choked on the words, but somehow I got them out. “Would you please take down my panties?”

She beamed. “Why certainly, sweetheart,” she replied with pleasure in her voice. “Would you kindly put your hands behind your head so I can do that for you?”

I hesitated, then interlocked my fingers and raised my arms, exposed and completely vulnerable. My sense of dread was extreme.

Felicity took a long, slow look at me, then smiled. She was ready to do the dirty deed. “Okay, here we go, are you ready? On three: One… two…” Then she stopped and stepped back.

“I just had a wonderful idea, Blondie. It’s my birthday, right?”

I nodded warily.

“And you’re just about to be in your birthday suit, right?” Again I nodded, apprehensively preparing for whatever might be coming out of her mouth next.

Her eyes gleamed. “Well then....it would be special if you could sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me while your panties are coming down. Will you do that for me, Blondie?”

I groaned inwardly, but I nodded resignedly. What else could I do?

"Oh, goodie!" she squealed while clapping her hands with delight and giving an excited little bounce. I felt like I was submitting to a ten-year-old girl.

She poised her fingers on the hems of the panties again, looking up like a kid at Christmas. “Whenever you’re ready, Blondie….”

There was no sense in delaying the inevitable. I closed my eyes tightly and began to sing.

♬“Happy birthday to you.”♬ I felt the panties begin their inexorable descent.

“Sing it slower!” she urged. She was really getting caught up in the moment.

♬“Happy birthday to you.”♬ The panties were now slipping past my penis. Felicity giggled with delight. It was all I could do to keep my hands on my head.

♬“Happy birthday, dear Felicity...”♬ The panties were at my knees, beyond the point of return. I opened my eyes to a squint and looked down at a girl who was nearly beside herself in youthful, jubilant ecstasy.

♬“Happy birthday to you.”♬ The panties pooled at my ankles. Felicity stepped back and fervently clapped her hands with glee.

“Bravo, Blondie! Bravo!” she squealed with delight.

Just then, the door flew open, and Becky poked her head in. Her jaw dropped in astonishment at the unusual sight. “Oh my GOD! Blondie, what is Felicity doing to you?!” she exclaimed. Then, when the scene kicked in for her, her hands were at her mouth, and she was overtaken by convulsive laughter.

I buckled forward, arms clamped over my crotch, my face burning hotter than a bonfire. Becky had to lean on the doorframe for support, tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. I couldn’t imagine being more embarrassed than I was at that moment. Felicity, for her part, had a triumphant grin on her face, quite proud of herself for creating such a spectacle.

When Becky finally caught her breath, she wiped her eyes and announced, “I just thought I’d let you know, Mitch is here, and he can’t wait to see you, Blondie." She paused to take in the horrified look on my face, then smiled and addressed Felicity. “Take your time, birthday girl. Don’t let us spoil your fun.”

She closed the door behind her, her laughter echoing down the hallway. Undoubtedly she was quite anxious to relay to her cohorts the scene she had just witnessed.

But I had much bigger concerns. I was, for all intents and purposes, naked and at the mercy of a girl who was cunning beyond her years and seemed hell-bent on humiliating me by any means at her disposal.

[Blondie]

Chapter 22: Denuded by a Thirteen-Year-Old

Naked on the Bed

Felicity grinned wickedly at me for a few seconds. I stood there on the stool, still bent over at the waist. Without a word, she lifted one of my legs, then the other, freeing the panties from my feet. I was now completely naked and at her mercy. She dropped the panties on the floor and reached out for my hand.

“Come, sweetie, let’s chitchat over on the bed for a while.”

My torture at the hands of this cruel little girl was going to carry on.

My stomach sank. I took her hand reluctantly, and she helped me down from the stool. My free hand remained firmly clutched over my groin as she led me to the bed.

“Up we go,” she said cheerfully, climbing onto the mattress and pulling me with her. She positioned us with my back facing the door and her front squarely toward me. I sat awkwardly with my legs tucked to the side, still guarding my modesty like my life depended on it. I had no idea what she had in store next—and I was pretty sure I didn't want to find out.

“Come on now, Blondie, let’s get comfortable.” With a grin, she reached for my ankles and tugged my legs forward, spreading them apart and positioning them on either side of her hips. She scooted closer, draping her legs over mine, effectively trapping me. Her clothed torso was now merely inches from my naked one. She held out her hands. “Give me your hands,” she requested.

Of course, it wasn’t a request. I hesitated, but I knew better than to resist. Slowly, I lifted my hands into hers. She gently guided them outward, placing them flat on the bed, just beyond my knees. I was now fully exposed, which, of course, was her intent. I instinctively tried to close my legs, but her body was in the way. She looked between my legs and smiled, clearly pleased with the result.

"Tell me, Blondie, what's it like to be naked against your will in front of a thirteen-year-old girl?"

I had no answer. I turned my gaze downcast and fixed it on the floral pattern of the bedspread.

“I can only imagine how humiliating this must be for you,” she cooed. "I think if I were in your shoes—oh, silly me, you're not wearing any shoes," she said with a giggle. "If I were in your situation I think I'd just die of humiliation."

She watched me squirm, savoring every second. She continued with her verbal torment.

“Tell me about Mitch.” I flinched, which did not go unnoticed. She pounced on the moment.

“I hear he’s into both girls and boys. Is that true?”

I didn't answer.

“Answer me, sweetie.”

“Y-Yes, I think that’s true.”

“I hear he likes you, Blondie.”

I didn't reply.

“Is that true? Is he hot for you, Blondie? Do you think he wants to get inside your panties?”

“Please, I don't.…”

She leaned in. “You know it’s true, don’t you? That’s why he’s here tonight—just to see you, right?” She smirked and pointed at the babydoll nightie draped over a nearby chair. “Mitch is going to be so excited to see you in that, isn’t he, Blondie?”

“Please…”

“Or maybe you should just go out there just like this. Would you like that?”

“No!” I shot back instantly, my head snapping up.

Felicity smiled, clearly pleased by my outburst. “Okay, relax, sweetie. I won't make you go out there all naked." She patted my knee. “You can wear the babydoll. Would you like that?”

I nodded faintly. The evil little thing was ruthless.

“Say it, Blondie. Tell me what you want to wear when we go out there.”

“The babydoll.”

“Say, ‘Please, Felicity, may I wear the babydoll for Mitch?’”

It was becoming excruciating. “P-Please, Felicity, may I wear the babydoll for Mitch?”

“Why of course you may, sweetheart. Mitch will be very excited to see you in your sexy little babydoll.” She grinned at me, then glanced down at my legs. “It’ll really show off those pretty legs of yours.”

She released one of my hands and ran her fingers slowly down my thigh. “Mm, so smooth. He’s going to love your silky, slender legs. Don’t you think so, Blondie?”

“Oh God, please, no…”

She kept stroking, trailing her fingers up toward my hip. “How did your legs get so smooth, Blondie ? Did you shave them?”

“No…I, uh…please, I’d rather not talk about it.”

She lifted my arm and gave it the same treatment, sliding her fingers up and down. “And such smooth, girlie arms. Pretty, pretty,” she teased, dragging out the t sound with a musical taunt. I fidgeted under her touch, feeling increasingly more uncomfortable.

Then she lifted my arm high, zeroing in on my hairless armpit. “And your underarms are nice and smooth, too. How lovely.”

She lowered my arm and looked me straight in the eye. “Tell me how’d you got so pretty, Blondie.”

“B-Becky and Brenda did it to me,” I muttered.

“Oh, and what a wonderful job they did!” she sang.

She looked at my pubic hair, then reached down and gently tugged on a few strands, causing me to flinch. “Why did they leave your hair down here?” I didn’t answer, just stared straight ahead, praying she’d move on.

But of course, she didn’t. “Shall we get rid of it now?”

“NO!” I cried, my eyes widening in horror.

That was probably a critical mistake. Her smile stretched slowly across her face. She’d struck a nerve, and we both knew it. She left it alone for the moment, but I had a haunting feeling it was something she would revisit.

Her gaze flicked back down, and her grin turned impish. “Don’t you think you’re a little small down there for a sixteen-year-old?”

I fidgeted some more, much to her delight. She knew which buttons to push.

“I told you about Joey, my ten-year-old brother. I saw his little wee-wee the other day, and yours is as small as his.” That was at least the third time she had reminded me of that unpleasant piece of information—and it was getting more humiliating each time.

“Aren’t you embarrassed when you have to shower after gym class? I’ll bet all the other boys make jokes about your little pee-pee. Oh, you’re really blushing now, Blondie, it must be true.”

I just sat there, silent and mortified, my face on fire.

“Talk to me, Blondie; I’m monopolizing the conversation again,” she said, grabbing my hands again and giving them a playful bounce on the bed.

“I….I don’t know if they joke,” I mumbled weakly.

“Have you ever measured yourself down there? It can’t be more than a couple of inches.”

“No…please.” I was staring at the floor, unable to make eye contact with the little devil.

“Look at me, Blondie.” I hesitated, then forced myself to meet her gaze. Her eyes were dancing with delight.

“Aren’t you embarrassed to show the other boys your little wee-wee?”

“I don’t know….please, can we talk about something else?”

She smirked. “Okay. Tell me the story about the auditorium.”

I probably would have been more comfortable talking about my penis. “What story?” I’m sure that my body language betrayed my feigned ignorance.

“You know," she said, her grin widening. “When Mitch and Marcia made you strip during the play. Julie told me, and she heard it second hand. I’d like to hear it from you.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Th-they made me take my clothes off. That’s it.”

“You mean you were naked among all those people in the auditorium?”

I nodded, my eyes locked on the bedspread. “But….it was dark,” I offered weakly.

“I heard something about a flashlight. Did Marcia really make you shine a flashlight on your little pee-pee?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Ooh, I wish I could have been there, it sounds delicious! Weren’t you just freaking out?”

“It w-wasn’t fun,” I muttered. "Please, you know the story.”

“The story goes that you didn’t have any hair down there back then. Is that true, Blondie, was the light shining on your hairless little wee-wee?”

I felt my face flush hotter. “I don’t remember,” I lied (it was true).

She pointed between my legs. “Shall we remove that unsightly hair before we go out there, sweetie?”

My eyes snapped wide again. “Please, no….” I begged.

“Ah,” she sang. “Touched a nerve again, didn’t I? Well, you know, I don’t have any hair on my privates, so it’s only fair that you don’t, either.”

She paused, eyeing me for a reaction. There was none. I was still stunned by the latest turn in the conversation.

“Doesn’t that surprise you, Blondie? After all, I’m thirteen now. Most girls have reached puberty before that. Not I. Physically, I have the body of an eleven-year-old. I'm probably emotionally immature, too, if I'm being honest. But I’ve been told that intellectually I’m as smart as a lot of college students.”

I was in no mood to listen to her self-assessment. And the fact that she had the body of an eleven-year-old somehow only made my abject submission to her that much more humiliating. Which, now that I think about it, is probably the reason she was telling me. Like I said before, she was perceptive beyond her years.

In any case, I had to try to appeal to her, hoping she had at least one ounce of compassion.

“Felicity, I’m begging you, please, please let me keep my pubic hair. I’ll do anything, but please don’t do that to me.”

She smiled, both at my anxiety and the “I’ll do anything” remark. Certainly, there was a tacit understanding that this was the case regardless of whether she spared my pubic hair or not.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Now refresh my memory, sweetie. What was it you called me earlier?”

And just like that, I knew there was no mercy coming. I lowered my head in gloom.

“Something about a female dog….tell me, what exactly was it you called me?”

“A bitch,” I said softly.

"Yes, that was it. A fucking bitch, to be more accurate. You really shouldn’t have said that, Blondie. Here I’ve been so nice to you, dressing you up and helping you find your feminine side, and this is the gratitude I get?” She shook her head dramatically, as if she were truly heartbroken.

Then she got up on her knees, reached for my hands, and gently tugged me off the bed.


My Little Pee-Pee Has No Hair

“I think we need to finish what Becky and Brenda started,” she said breezily, walking over to the nightstand. “Now be a real sweetie and help me find a pair of scissors.” I stood there frozen, stunned at what was about to take place.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Check the dresser,” she added with a nudge.

I slowly walked over to the dresser, unbelieving of what was transpiring. Here I was, naked, helping my tormentor find scissors so she could cut off my pubic hair. I went through the motions, opening the top drawer. As luck (or lack of it) would have it, the first thing I saw was a small pair of scissors. I grabbed them quickly, hoping to hide them under the bed before Felicity could see.

“Good boy, Blondie!” Felicity squealed gleefully, suddenly right behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin. She plucked the scissors from my hand, then held them a few inches from my crotch, opening and closing the blades a couple of times for effect. I instinctively backed away.

“Yes, these should do just fine,” she said, eyeing her target with a mischievous grin.

I dropped to my knees and clasped my hands together in a classic pose of desperate entreaty. I’m sure it looked quite dramatic, and for her a bit comical.

“Please, Felicity, I’m begging you, one last time…”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, how pathetic,” she said, grabbing a few strands of hair from my head and pretending to cut them. “Fine, we’ll just start here and work our way down.”

“Okay! Okay!” I cried, scrambling to my feet.

She looked down at her objective, then paused, putting her fingers to her chin as if deep in thought. This, I knew, could not bode well for me.

“Let’s make this fun, Blondie,” eyes widening as if a light had just turned on in her head. “You did so well singing ‘Happy Birthday.’ Maybe you can sing for me again. Are you familiar with ‘Old MacDonald Had a Farm?’ ”

I nodded gloomily, my stomach knotting.

“Great! We’ll use the same tune, but we’ll plug in our own lyrics. Let me think…” She paused for a few seconds while I stood there, wishing for death.

“I’ve got it!” she chirped, eyes gleaming. "It goes like this: ♬ My little pee-pee has no hair, ee-eye-ee-eye-oh….With a snip-snip here, and a snip-snip there, here a snip, there a snip, everywhere a snip-snip…” ♬

"Now, here's the really fun part (I must tell the reader that she had a maniacal look in her eyes as she spoke): Every time you sing the word ‘snip,’ I snip off a little bit of your pubic hair. So essentially, you’ll control the snipping with your singing. The more you sing, the balder you’ll get down there. Won’t that be a fun game, Blondie? Oh, this is so exciting!"

“Okay, anytime you’re ready, sweetheart. Do you want to practice before we do the real thing?” I shook my head sullenly. She inched closer to me, her weapon at the ready. “Oh, do me a little favor, sweetie, and hold your little pee-pee down and out of the way. I’d hate to miss and snip the little thing off, know what I mean?” She laughed aloud, obviously quite amused with herself.

I pushed down my penis with my hand. I certainly didn’t need an “accident” to add to my suffering. There was silence for a few seconds. Felicity stood by anxiously. “Any time now, Blondie.”

There was no escape. I swallowed hard, then began.

♬ "My pee-pee has no ha...." ♬

“No, no, it’s little pee-pee! Now start over.” She was really keyed up.

♬ "My little pee-pee has no hair, ee-eye-ee-eye-oh…..with a…." ♬

I hesitated, momentarily unable to continue. Felicity gave me a look of admonition. I carried on.

♬ "...with a snip-snip here..." ♬

Snip. Snip.

I winced as I watched a small amount of my precious pubes gravitate unfettered to the carpet.

♬ “And a snip-snip there…” ♬

Snip. Snip.

♬ “Here a snip, there a snip, everywhere a snip-snip.…” ♬

Snip. Snip. Snip. Snip.

A total of eight snips of the scissors coincided with my less than mellifluous intonations. My voice cracked during the last part, as I struggled to maintain my composure.

♬ “My little pee-pee has no hair, ee-eye-ee-eye-oh.” ♬

Felicity squealed with laughter, literally hopping up and down with joy. “Oh my god, that was perfect!” she gasped.

I looked down to assess the damage. I could see the difference, but it wasn’t huge. The little devil was cutting off oh, so little at a time, to prolong my agony—and likewise, her entertainment.

“Let’s do it again!” she said excitedly.

I had no choice. Again I sang the sordid song. The second verse went just like the first. My voice cracked, and every snip brought a fresh wave of mortification.

♬ “My little pee-pee has no hair.…” ♬

Eight more snips trimmed away yet more of my pubic hair.

“Let’s do it again!” Her inner child was on full display, and she was completely enthralled by her wicked little game.

After the third go-round, there was a noticeable degree of hair loss. My feeling of despair was momentarily overshadowing my embarrassment.

But that feeling would prove to be short-lived. Felicity handed me the scissors with a bright, cheerful smile. “Now you do the snipping, Blondie, while you sing. You’ll see, it’s really fun!”

I was incredulous that I would have to cut off my own pubic hair, while simultaneously singing the stupid song.

"Felicity, please," I tried.

“Oh, come now, don’t be shy! It’s just me, and your little pee-pee.” She chuckled, watching my face glow brighter.

I groaned, and after a long, tense silence and a deep, reluctant sigh, I surrendered. I began to sing, while she crouched down and put her head close to the action. My hands quivered as I tentatively started snipping.

♬ “My little pee-pee has no hair....” ♬

My voice cracked with every line, while occasionally Felicity mockingly sang along in harmony. She laughed aloud as she watched my hair disappear bit by bit, savoring every snip.

When I finally finished the song, she clapped her hands and bounced on her toes like an overexcited kid at a birthday party. I was starting to think that she was positively deranged.

“Okay, my turn again. Hold your little wee-wee out of the way, and start singing,” she said as she took the scissors in her hand again. “Tell you what let’s do, Blondie. Let’s keep taking turns snipping until there’s nothing left, shall we? Oh, this is just so fun!”

And so we did. We passed the scissors back and forth seven or eight times, while I sang the dreadful song until there was nothing left to cut.

Felicity made the final snip, then placed the scissors on the dresser and leaned in to scrutinize the fruits of our labor. There was still some stubble remaining, and she wrinkled her face. She grabbed my elbow and guided me toward Becky’s bathroom.

“We have to finish the job, Blondie, until you’re totally bald down there.”

She ran hot water in the sink and soaked a facecloth. “I’ve seen my daddy soften his beard with hot water before shaving. This will make it easier, and you’ll be really smooth,” she explained, then retrieved Becky’s pink razor and some shaving cream from the shower and handed it to me.

“Here, you better do it. I’m afraid I might cut you.” She paused. “Unless you want me to get Mitch in here to do it for you." She chuckled at the look on my face and handed me the cloth. “Here, hold this over that stuff you have left for a couple of minutes.”

She reached down and without warning took hold of my balls and strummed her fingers across my scrotum. Startled, I jumped back, letting out a high-pitched squeal, much to Felicity’s amusement. “I think you’ve got a few hairs on your little balls, so wrap the cloth around those, too.” She was making sure that I would be totally denuded

Under her watchful eye, I did as instructed, removing the final traces of hair, bit by bit. When I was done, she handed me a towel, and I dried off quickly, covering myself as best I could.

“Hands behind your back, Blondie, let me see,” she ordered, all too eagerly.

I obeyed with visible reluctance. Her grin widened instantly. “Now it looks just like Joey’s,” she teased, cackling as I turned crimson from head to toe.

“Come, let’s have a look in the mirror,” she said, taking my hand. We stood side by side before the full-length mirror.

“Go like this.” She put her arms above her head, holding her elbows with her hands. I followed suit and was taken aback by the sight of an apparently prepubescent sixteen-year-old boy. I wanted to cry, but I was beyond tears.

“Well, would you look at that,” she said, admiring me like an artist surveying her sculpture. “You are completely hairless down there. Wait ‘till everybody sees this! You look like a little boy, Blondie. And you're sixteen! Isn’t that precious?" She looked at me and grinned, then began singing. She sang softly, like it was the sweetest lullaby.

♬“Blondie's pee-pee has no hair, ee-eye-ee-eye-oh.…” ♬

Then she beamed. "How does it feel to have no hair, Blondie?"

I just stared at my reflection in stunned silence, fully aware that I’d reached a new low in humiliation—and knowing full well that we weren’t finished yet.


The Babydoll

Felicity brought me out of my stupor when she pulled the pink babydoll nightie over my head.

“See, I'm keeping my promise and letting you wear this,” she said cheerfully. It had short, fluffy sleeves, and the lacy hem dropped just below my balls in the front, and barely covered my ass in the back. I nervously tried to pull it down further, but there was no give.

“It’s too short…please, can I just wear the pajamas?” I pleaded.

“Nonsense, sweetheart—it’s perfect. I know it seems short, but you’ve got such pretty legs, it’d be a shame not to show them off.” She paused, tapping her chin again. “Tell you what—I won’t make you wear panties. The babydoll’s so short, they’d show. You wouldn’t want that, would you, Blondie?”

Then it hit me. The girls—and, equally disturbing, Mitch—could easily get an eyeful if I wasn’t careful. I couldn’t believe what I was about to say.

“C-can I… please wear some p-panties?” I cringed at how that sounded. Felicity blinked, then burst out laughing.

“Oh, sweetie, what a good girl you’re becoming. Turn around, let me show you something.” I turned around miserably, my back to the mirror. When I did, Felicity lifted the nightie halfway up my back, exposing my bare ass. “If you wear panties, then Mitch won’t get to see this. We wouldn't want to deprive him of seeing your cute little tushy, would we?"

My blush deepened, and Felicity laughed harder.

And in that moment, my feeling of humiliation was surpassed only by my sense of dread.

[BABYRYAN2121]

as always... the best SPH!!!

[steam train]

Has to be one of the best written and emotive descriptions of shaving I have had the pleasure of reading. So good to read again.