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I like that Ariel is getting away with wearing a regular swimsuit.

AMERICAN HUMILIATIONS - PART 1 - CHAPTER 7

RETURN TO THE MALL

The next two weeks, besides a few more unpleasant encounters with Annie, are blissfully normal.

Well mostly. I am given two “time-outs” in The Cage, both times from fighting with my sister in front of Mother. Both times she simply decides I’m the cause of the problem and kicks me out of our apartment. Like before I remain fully clothed, just bored to tears.

Swimming class continues to go well. I secretly pack my swim shorts before class twice a week, and actually start to enjoy being in the water! Well, that might be overselling it, but at least I no longer want to cry in the pool.

With each class there are fewer comments from the other kids and fewer laughs at my expense. Cesar and I start talking more during class, and now at least I have someone to tag along with. There’s safety in numbers, even if that number is only 2.

The days go by and I’m no longer filled with nausea all the time, no longer antsy. I still dread seeing Annie, sure, and I hope Ryan never crosses my path again, but the weight that has been lifted off my shoulders… the weight of a tiny little ridiculous speedo… truly makes a huge difference.

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The following Saturday, Mother announces we’re all going to the mall again. We can’t believe our luck!

Of course, my sister’s “best friend” Annie the Annoying is tagging along, but I’ve been in such a good mood since pulling off the Great Speedo Switcheroo of 1994 that even she can’t bother me. We’re all actually joking and laughing together on the ride over, if you can believe it!

Mother pulls up to the SEARS parking lot as usual. The girls start making their requests:
 
“Mom can we go to Claire’s, and can we get ice cream, and look at the puppies in the pet store, and—” Jesse rattles on. 
 
“And I wana get scrunchies!" the pig-tailed Annie adds. 
 
“Yes, yes, kids, we will do all that, but first we need to return this,” she pulls a plastic bag out from under her seat, and from that, pulls out my beloved swimming shorts. 
 
My world crashes down on me. Holy freaking crap. I turn white.

“MOM!” I yell. “How- did- wha- aw please, we don’t have to return them… Mom please, I like them…”  But that was the least of my problems.
 
“And you’ll be wearing this, mister,” to my stomach-churning horror, from the same plastic bag she pulls out my speedo.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit! A wave of heat sweeps over me. I instantly feel nauseous and sweaty, gasping in short breaths of air, my brain cracking like an egg, unable to fully process what is happening. I stammer: “Bu-bu-but *gasp* whyyyyyyy, you-yuuu- *gasp*, b-but- nuuhhh *gasp* whu-whu-whu… how.. how... ”
 
She looks at me very seriously. “We are all going in there, and YOU are going to return these yourself,” she holds the shorts up to face.
 
I am now in full panic mode, whining, begging: “Whaaaat!?! Puh-pleeeazzeee, b-b-uut moOOOom-- NooOo!! Wh—”
 
She continutes: “...then maybe you’ll learn not to deceive your mother and sneak around behind her back! At least your cousin hasn’t been corrupted by the American life!"
 
That son of a bitch, Cesar ratted me out. How? When?? Why?!? No time for that now. “Put it on!” Mother tosses the speedo at my lap. From the corner of my eye I see the girls in the backseat, their grins widening, falling over themselves in anticipation.
 
I curl into a ball in the farthest corner of the passenger seat, as far away from Mother as I can get; I want to disappear.  “Buh-- buh- but *gasp*, I don’t like the speeedooooos!” I cry out. “they’re uhhhggghhh, they’re suhhh embrrassinnnnn..”

“I don’t care, put it on!” Mother barks.
 
“I thought speedos were the European way, Ariel!” Annie says from the backseat in a nasty, mocking manner, “and you wore it because you liked it, remember, when you told me that, huuuuh?”
 
“C’mon Arieeeel, lets gooo!” my sister whines.

"Ariel, we don’t have all day!" Mother tag teams back in.
 
Oh my god they are all ganging up on me.
 
“Now hurry UP!” Mother yells again, then starts muttering to herself, “breaking my back, single mother, raising you kids, and you’re sneaking around and lying to me, I just can’t...” she throws her hands up.
 
I resist as long as I can. I’d rather run away! I tell myself. I’d rather live with a foster family, I’d rather be homeless! But in the end I am nothing by a scared little boy. The girls keep whining impatiently, Mother keeps yelling, until finally she steps out of the car, goes around to my door, and yanks it open. I almost spill out, then scurry to the other side of the seat.

“Get out!" she’s nearly shouting. "If you’ve decided you won’t obey your mother anymore, get out, you can find another way home!"
 
My stomach twisted in knots, I go weak like a noodle and relent. “Okaaaay, okaaaay, *sob* okhaaaaaaay,” I whimper. She slams the door shut and goes back into the car. I sit there like a lump. “Well?!” she shrieks. I sheepishly turn away as much as I can from them all, yank my shirt down to cover myself, and start taking off my shorts, and then my underwear – stripping naked in the presence of my mother, my sister, and Annie.
 
“Hurry uuuup Ariel!” my sister rolls her eyes for the millionth time.
 
I finish removing my layers of protection, still managing to keep my oversized t-shirt pulled down enough to not reveal any skin. Carefly I bend down, slip the speedos around my sneakers, and start slowly tugging them up. I get them past my knees, but as always they resist around my plump thighs. I wiggle into them, little by little, finally getting them onto my big butt, then look at Mother with the most pathetic, pleading face ever, holding tightly to the hem of my shirt. I don’t even have to say it.
 
“Give me everything,” she gestures with her hand. Almost crying now, I peel off my last bit of modesty, grab the shorts and underwear from the floor of the car, and give those up too. I am now in the passenger seat of my mother’s car wearing my speedo, while the girls in the backseat have a giggling fit. I look down at my thighs, flattened out against the car seat, they look so impossibly thick.
 
  “Ok kids, let’s go.” Mother turns off the car and they all exit.

Oh god oh god oh god.
 
This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. Mother opens my door and stares me down. I slowly drip out of the car, into a steamy summer day, trembling, and save for my sneakers and a tiny piece of stretchy fabric, completely nude. 
 
WALK OF SHAME
 
My testicles tighten up painfully as I feel sick to my stomach. I look at my sad bundle of clothes on Mother’s seat and give it one last shot.
 
“Mohhm, can we puh-please bring m-my clothes with us, just in caaasse, pleeease? Just my shirt maybeee??” I beg.
 
“No, you won’t be needing them.”
 
“Okaaayy, *sob*, Okaayyy…”
 
I turn to face the mall. Oh my god, this is insanity. I look back at the car pathetically but the girls are running ahead and Mother pushes me to get moving. I don’t think I can get across this parking lot, much less the mall itself! I squint at the blazing sun, and its reflection in every car window is white-hot and bright, blinding me.
 
“Ariel, you are to walk in front of us. Girls, get back here!” Mother commands. 
 
The girls come bouncing back. I sadly shuffle to the front of the group. It’s been two minutes, it feels like an hour. Two teen boys and a girl are headed our way. I look down in shame and instinctively cover my crotch with my hands. As they get closer their chattering stops — they just stare at me slack-jawed. 
 
“And stop covering yourself!” Mother pokes me in the back. “Hands on your sides, young man.” I obey.

The group of teenagers bursts out laughing. "Did you see that? What the hell?" I hear the girl say, giggling.
 
We keep walking, Jesse and Annie trailing behind me, laughing and chattering, while Mother brings up the rear. As the hot sun beats down on my mostly exposed body, I hear just a snippet of what Annie is saying to Jesse: “…and remember, keep talking about his big girl butt, it really strikes a nerve with him...”
 
Oh my god, again with the nerves, this scheming little bitch.

-----------------------------------------------
  
We finally make it to the entrance. The automatic doors slide open. A freezing burst of air hits my body, giving me goosebumps all over. I feel my nipples harden. This being the mid 90s, the look of this mall is… well, it looks like my speedo: bright garish colors, tasteless, gaudy. 
 
At first it seems almost deserted, but the more we walk, the more people seem to appear out of nowhere.
 
We pass by a mother and her daughter, maybe 6 or 7, who says, “mom look, she has panties on!” Oh geez, did she just call me a she?

“Ariel, where did you buy these shorts?” Mother asks. 
 
“Uh.. sss.. puh- Sports Authority,” I mumble.
 
“Where is that?”
 
“Oh-On the other side of the mall,” I sigh.
 
“Hahaaaa!” my sister teases. Annie looks like she’s ready to pounce, her eyes fixed on mine with intense scrutiny. And that toothy smile.
 
 Mother continues, now fully in control, calm, no longer having to yell. “Ok kids, let’s head that way. Now, Ariel, this is what I want you to say when returning these shorts…”
 
Impossibly, as if this whole ordeal wasn’t bad enough, she begins spit-balling the "dialogue" I’m supposed to deliver when returning my beloved shorts, another strange new tradition born on that miserable day.
 
 My tormentor continues: “Pleased to meet you, my name is Ariel… and I’m a… disrespectful little boy who disobeys his mother--”

The girls are glued to my predicament like I’m a sitcom.

“Make him say Mommy, cuz that’s funnier!” Annie suggests. Holy Christ, I want to hit her in the face.  

“... who disobeys his Mommy,” Mother continues, “and I would like to return these swimming shorts--”

“Make him say please!” Jesse offers.

“Pretty please!” Annie amends.

“Yes,” Mother continues. “Pretty please, may I return these swimming shorts that I bought without my Mommy’s permission--”
 
“Because all I need is my lovely European speedo!” Annie interrupts. “And then he shows off his speedo, doing a twirl! Like this!” She demonstrates: a 360 spin with arms in the air, followed by a curtsy.

“Yes, doing a twirl,” Mother repeats, no longer paying that much attention, eyeing the stores we are walking by.
 
My eyes turn to Annie, my face a grotesque mix of hatred, fear, and shame. I hate her so much. I start whining and protesting, tears welling up in my eyes. By now they are just ignoring me.
 
Mother turns back to us. “You think he’ll remember all that?” she asks the girls playfully. “No!” they answer in unison.
 
“Well then, he better start practicing. Girls, help Ariel to remember. Ariel, repeat what you have to say, and keep walking, hands at your sides." The girls have somehow memorized my entire little speech. They start:

"Pleased to meet you, my name is Ariel, and I’m a disrespectful little boy….”
 
In the middle of this cold mall, in my tiny speedo, walking in my pathetic knock-kneed, pigeon toe’d manner, with everyone who passes starting at me, random kids pointing and laughing, I beging to repeat:

“P-pleased to muh-meet you, muh-muh-my name… is Ariel…” I am pathetic. “and I-I-I…. I’m a dih-dih- disrespectful…*sniff*… little boy…” I hate myself. I hate everyone.
 
“Louder!”

“A di-disrespectful little boy!”

The game continues. My heart is pounding out of my chest and I feel slippery with sweat in spite of the air conditioning. I brush my damp hair off of my forehead. 

I’m pretty sure I’m visibly trembling as I walk. It feels like I’ve forgotten how to walk naturally. And so it goes, the entire walk across the mall all the way to Sports Authority. I don't know if I’m being paranoid but I swear there are small groups of teenagers now following us, at a short distance, talking and laughing at me, curious to see what the hell is going on.

The girls continue drilling me on what I am to say, they even start singing it, performing the twirl and curtsy at the end every time… and I do too. Everyone stares at the pathetic loser with the girly butt in the tiny speedo.
 
BIG SWIMMER
 
Finally, we go into Sports Authority, and get in line. There are two couples ahead of us. The AC is freezing, but still my hands and my armpits feel crazy sweaty. I am on the verge of losing what’s left of my composure and sobbing like a baby. I notice there are two cute girls working behind the counter. Oh god. I want to be swallowed up by the floor, oh god, I feel so nauseous.
 
The line moves a little. Mother pokes me in the back, and I step forward. I am holding the bag with the shorts inside. Annie and Jesse are nearly having a fit they are so excited, giggling uncontrolably.
 
Swallowing hard, I approach. Aw my god, it’s the same girl from last time, the one who sold me the shorts and was nice to me. Heather. Her eyes bulge when she sees me, but she smiles anyway. 
  
My face is a frozen wince. “Puh-puh-puh puh-leased to muh-meet you,” I squeak.

“Hi… ohmygod, big swimmer, right?” she says awkwardly as her eyebrows arch in confusion. “We met before, remember, I sold you the um.. the swimming shorts?”

Her interaction has thrown me off. I clear my throat. “Uh… Good morning, uhhh,” I improvise. It’s actually afternoon but my brain is not working. “Muh-my name is… Ariel, and I’m a buh-buh-bad… little… b-b-b-b-boy…” I start mumbling. Mother pokes me in the back as Annie corrects me: "um it’s disrespectful?"

“D-d-disres… pectful… luh-l-little boy who-who-who-” I am sweating so much. This is excruciating, trying not to cry in front of this girl. “who-who disobeys his m-mommy.” I manage to finish that awful first sentence.

I have never seen a bigger smile on my sister’s face. I continue my ordeal.

“I would like to, um…” my eyes keep darting around, panicked, as I squirm in my little speedo in front of this cute teenage girl. “..Uhm, to return these swimming trunks--”
 
“shorts!” my sister interrupts. What a stickler for staying on script.
 
“Uh, shorts,” I continue, hot in my mortification, “that I buh-buh-bought without, *sniff*…” a brief pause as I swallow a mouthful of sand. I look down in shame. My chest is heaving up and down so fast, my belly trembling. My thighs are like big fat sausages. Oh my god what a loser.

Taking shallow little breaths as I speak, eventually I just sounds like I’m gasping “.. that I… *gasp* bought without my muh-muh *gasp* -mommy’s *gasp* muh-mommy’s puh-permission…”
 
Heather stifles a laugh. “Uhhh… ok sure, I--” she starts, but my sister pulls me down by the arm and mumbles into my ear: “because all I need is my lovely European speedo!”
 
I shut my eyes hard. Head hung low, I continue my miserable performance: “b-because all I need is, uhhhh, *sniff*, is this… is this uh, this uh, uh, is muh-my.. my lovely European… speedo!”

Heather loudly barks out a laugh then covers her mouth.

My sister cocks her head and flares her nostrils at me. I roll my eyes, I roll my whole head, as if looking for help, somewhere, anywhere, my chin quivering.  

She wants a spin and curtsy. What else can I do at this point? I raise my arms up pathetically and do a sad spin, showing off my tiny speedo, showing off my body – my narrow chest, my heaving belly, my muffin top, my fat, jiggly butt, my chonky thighs, my entire pear-shaped, feminine body – then I bow in a curtsy. Jesse and Annie both jump up and down, clapping, squealing.
 
Heather has a huge smile frozen on her face. “How adorable you are!” she says in a bit of a baby voice. “Of course I can do that for you, bud!”
 
The whole process takes forever. The second cashier girl gets involved. Mother talks to them, explains that I’m a very naughty boy, Jesse explains the whole damn speedo situation to these girls, putting some extra relish in how humiliated I feel, while I just stand glowing in shame, shuffling around, looking at my shoes like an idiot, catching the girls eyes every once in a while.
 
They are finishing up. By now I’ve managed to scuttle a few feet away.
 
“Ariel, come here and thank these nice girls,” Mother says at me. Oh my gaaawwwwwd. I reluctantly go back up there. “Thank you,” I mumble.

“Look people in the eye when you talk to them!” Mother scolds.
 
I flush a somehow deeper shade of red. I look up at this cute blonde teen girl who almost looks sorry for me. “Thank you,” I say, trembling.
 
“And do a twirl goodbye!” Annie suggests.
 
“Yes, do a twirl goodbye.” Mother repeats with a smirk.
 
Beyond mortified, I twirl, and curtsy again, then realize they didn’t even ask me to curtsy. Heather, still seemingly in disbelief but having too much fun, waves goodbye to me, then starts giggling uncontrollably, covering her mouth, and whispering something to her cashier friend.

“Thank you,” Mother says to them, and turns to leave. I eagerly follow them out of the store.
 
“Ok Mommy, I did it, can we please go home now pleaaaase pleeeeaasee” I beg, feeling like a toddler being punished, feeling like the 6-year-old boy stripped down to his underwear at the grocery store all those years ago.
 
“Nooooo!” the girls protest in unison. “We just got here!”
 
Mother looks around thoughtfully. “What was it I needed from SEARS…”

What incredible humiliation "little" Ariel suffers in this chapter. I LOVE IT!

Very well written and the mental imagery is so well-described I can clearly picture the whole scene.

Wonderfully done!

Hooked6

..

AMERICAN HUMILIATIONS - PART 1 - CHAPTER 8

PARADED

“What was it I needed from SEARS…”

“Ugh, SEARS is boooring” my sister says impatiently.
 
Mother leads. I follow. The girls giggle behind me. We go into SEARS. Mother drags me through the entire bedroom section, and then the entire kitchen section, and eventually buys just two potholders. It takes forever. Three teenage girls follow us around the entire time, whispering to each other and laughing. We go into The Sharper Image. We go to the pet store. People gawking at me everywhere. We then head to… oh my god, Claire’s.
  
For just a moment I hesitate outside the store, my chin quivering. I look across at the bright and colorful collection of scrunchies, hair bows, sunglasses, and lip gloss. The giant signs for ear piercing.
 
And wherever you look, in every corner and cranny, there are girls. Dozens of tween and teen girls, many of them cute, all of them about to see me publicly humiliate myself against my will. I look down at my fat thighs and the tiny, nearly non-existent bulge protruding at the front. I inhale deeply and almost start crying, but manage to hold it together.  
 
“C’mon already,” Mother grabs me by the hand and pulls. Oh my lord. I resist but she forcefully drags me into the store. I try to shake her loose but she squeezes tight.
 
I catch my reflection in a bejeweled mirror. I am red as a fire hydrant. I feel feverish and freezing at the same time. My face is stuck in a weird grimace that almost seems like a smile, a pathetic, pleading, terrified smile, teeth bared and gritted, cheeks quivering, nothing but shame in my eyes. Here I am walking through Claire’s, holding my mommy’s hand, a nearly-13-year old boy being treated like a toddler in a diaper, being stared at by all these teenage girls!
 
I keep my head down, my eyebrows drawn up into the saddest face ever seen at this mall, just trying not to cry. Skinny girls, fat girls, short girls, tall girls, blondes and brunettes, white girls and black girls, everyone gets to laugh at me on display.
 
A few of them even “awwww” at me, like I’m a cute little baby or a dog wearing a hat. Annie and Jesse spend a good 5 minutes walking around, until finally Jesse decides she doesn’t want to buy anything. Annie buys a package of scrunchies and a hair pin shaped like a big daffodil, with her own money.  
 
Once again it’s a cute blonde teen girl behind the counter. What the heck, is this entire mall staffed by cute blonde teen girls?! Luckily we don’t have any interaction, except when she looks at me and snorts.
 
Finally, after another eternity of embarrassment, we leave Claire’s. I’m hoping we can start heading home when--
 
  “Lets get ice cream! Can we get ice cream??” my sister squeals. Oh god, how long is this gonna go on?  Mother, in a good mood, happily agrees! Off we go towards… oh no. The.. the Food Court. I try to swallow but my throat feels like it’s filled with nails.
 
DOMINATED
 
We keep walking. By now there are dozens of people around me, many walking with us, keeping just a little bit of distance. Jesse and Annie are enjoying the spectacle. They chatter excitedly, their eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and malice. Annie, in particular, is relishing in my humiliation, her laughter ringing out loudly as she points out various people who are staring at me.

“Look, Ariel, that guy over there, with the camera, he’s taking a picture of you!” Annie teases, her voice laced with mock concern. “You’re famous!” I look where she points and indeed there’s a man with a plastic disposable camera taking a picture of the scene. I instinctively cover my crotch area with my hands. Mother is watching. She pokes me in the back, “mijo, if you cover your front one more time, I’m taking that speedo off,” she says casually, like we’re all having a grand old time.

As we walk past the Disney Store my heart starts palpating, surely the girls will bring me in there so the smaller kids can get a laugh, too, but they ignore it. They are now skipping ahead of me, and I notice Annie whispering something into Jesse’s ear, while taking sideways glances at me. They giggle, she whispers some more, they both look back and giggle again like a couple of junior conspirators.
 
They break formation and head back towards Mother. I keep walking, glancing back, as they all whisper. Mother laughs and says, “ok.” Jesse looks at Annie and gives her the “ok” hand signal. Annie springs into action.
 
“Ariel!” she shouts. I freeze. Reluctantly I turn to face her. “Get your big GIRL BUTT over here,” she yells in a bossy tone, pointing with her index finger to a spot on the floor in front of her. Her yelling has called attention to us and now there are even more onlookers than before. I look at Mother pleadingly. She simply gestures towards Annie, like, “go on.”
 
Cowed, I shuffle over to this pint-sized Asian demon. “Get down! On your knees!” she gestures. I am pathetic. I don’t even resist. A small whimper escapes my lips as I get down on my knees. We are face to face. She reaches into her bag and pulls out the giant daffodil hair clip. “Here, this will make you look prettier!” she says cheerfully, and very loudly. I look around to see smiling, laughing kids everywhere.  
 
I hang my head like the loser I am and she affixes the daffodil to the right side of my hair, above my ear. I am softly whimpering and sniffling. I’m not gonna cry, I’m not gonna cry! This little girl is not gonna make me cry!!
 
“Look up,” she taps the bottom of my chin twice, making me flinch. I lift my head and look deep into her mocking eyes. My whole face is quivering.
 
“Aw, you look so PRETTY!!!” she loudly announces. And then, to everyone who’s gathered around, watching the spectacle: “This is Ariel, doesn’t he look pretty? He chose this outfit today, just for you guys, because it really highlights his big GIRL BUTT!”

I hate her with the fire of a thousands suns. The crowd laughs. I hear a boy’s voice from behind me: “wait, is that a guy or a girl? I’m confused.”
 
“Ok, lets go,” Mother says, over it. Jesse and Annie giggle themselves into a stupor.

I am told to stand up and once again pushed into leading the group, this time towards the Food Court. If there was one place with even more tweens and teens than Claire’s... it was the Food Court. And now it wouldn’t be just girls looking at me.

THE FOOD COURT FAGGOT 
 
I catch my reflection in a big reflective metal panel as we get near… my patterned speedos looking like panties, my curvy hips and big butt bubbling out, this stupid daffodil in my hair… oh god, I look like a topless girl with a flat chest. Even my hair, untrimmed for a while now, is shaggy enough to look like a short-haired girl’s haircut. I instinctively lower my head and pull my arms up tightly to my chest, sticking the tips of both thumbs into my mouth, like an embarrassed girl about to cry.
 
My female tormentors are literally walking in a line behind me, Annie, then Jesse, both skipping happily, then Mother. This line formation calls even more attention to me, the loser at the front of this crazy train.

The chatter of young people grow louder as we approach the food court. Oh my god, this place is actually really crowded. There must be a hundred kids and teens and some of their parents hanging about. As I slink through, grimacing my idiotic grin, hair damp with sweat, face burning, each person grows quiet and points me out to whoever is next to them. Soon there is no more casual teen chatter, it’s all whispers and snickering, slowly growing into outright laughter.

I am told to head towards Baskin’ Robbins. What can I do? I obey. I get in line. The girls are being SO loud, making up songs about me, talking nonstop about my BIG GIRL BUTT, telling every kid they come across about my predicament. Jesse hasn’t stopped maniacally smiling since we got here, it’s like she’s on some demented TV show where the goal is to humiliate her big brother as much as humanly possible.

“Bet you’re never gonna lie to mom again, right, Ariel?” she pretty much shouts in my face.

People stop what they’re doing to watch this, making comments, laughing.

“Jeez, what a loser!” a girl’s voice says loudly.

“Yo that’s gay. That’s fucking gay,” a teenage boy with spiky hair says as he walks by, shaking his head.

From somewhere in the distance, loudly, one word pierces through the rest: “FAGGOT!”

Then it’s Annie’s turn again. “Hey everybody, this is Ariel, check out his big GIRL BUTT!” she shouts out to the crowd. “You’d think this was a girl, but it’s actually a boy!” It gets a laugh. I hate her to much. I’m not gonna cry. I’m not gonna cry!!

The line moves along. I look back at Mother. Her arms are crossed, she’s looking off in the distance absent-minded.

“Ariel is a naughty little boy,” Jesse starts singing.

“And now he’s wearing panties, for us to enjoy” Annie finishes, and they fall over each other laughing.

Oh my god I want to disappear, I want to die. I’m so sweaty and nauseous. My balls feel so tight and uncomfortable that I’m slightly hunched over, somehow trying to alleviate the pain. More and more people are laughing, literally pointing and laughing.

The line moves. It’s our turn. Oh god.
 
“What can I get you guys?” the ice cream scooper (a cute teen blonde girl, of course) says happily, while stifling a laugh.

Mother steps up. She puts the girls’ orders in. I am literally hiding behind my mother. Enough humiliation at the hands of cute teen girls for today please!
 
Alas, Mother steps right out of the way, leaving my shivering, awkwardly-posed body in full view of this girl, and asks, “Ariel, what do you want?”
 
“Mohhmmmm, I don’t want any!” I whine/mumble. I glance up at this girl, who has an embarrassed smile on her face. Oh my god, am I really supposed to lick an ice cream cone while casually hanging out at the mall nearly naked?!
 
“You’re here, you might as well have ice cream!” Mother says.
 
“I’m not in the mood!” I whisper yell.

“I’m not in the moOOod!” Annie mimics me in a high voice.

“He’ll have a chocolate with sprinkles. That’s his favorite,” Mother decides.
 
She then leads us to a table near the center of the food court, a spot that ensures maximum visibility. I feel like a specimen on display, my every movement scrutinized and judged. I sit down, my fat thighs flattened against the plastic seat, my body rigid with tension. Mother eats her ice cream, seemingly unperturbed that hundreds of people are staring at us… at me, her son, who is clearly in great distress, clearly mortified, red-faced, red-chested, and constantly on the verge of tears. The girls chat animatedly, about me, at me, to anyone within earshot. It’s clear now Annie’s goal is to break me, and that Mother won’t be doing anything to stop her from reaching that goal.

“You look ridiculous, Ariel. Everyone is laughing at you.” she says, at a perfectly normal volume, not even trying to hide it. “Look at all these people, all laughing at you!”

It takes a half hour. I can see the food court clock from here. A half hour of strangers, kids of all ages, coming and going, non-stop laughter and name-calling. 30 whole minutes of sitting there, in speedos that look like panties, with a flower in my hair, being laughed at. Eating ice cream, nauseous, beyond mortified.

There’s no getting used to this particular humiliation, no growing numb to the shame — every second brings about a new pair of ogling eyes, a new laugh at my expense, a new mocking comment - it just never stops.  Whenever I say I’m done and I’ve had enough, Mother says we’re not leaving until I finish. I force the rest of it down as fast as possible.

When this ordeal finally ends we stand up and I see my reflection again. I’m shocked by how big and bloated my stomach looks. The full stomach just makes me look more curvy. More feminine. More pathetic.

BREAKDOWN

As we leave, groups of kids and teens follow us -- follow me -- towards the exit. There are mirrors everywhere, all the walls seem to be mirrored, and there I am looking like a flat-chested, big-butt girl, hardly even a tiny bump at the front of my ‘panties’ to convince anyone otherwise.

The show would end where it began, in the parking lot. How could this have happened? There is no recovering from this. At least a dozen random kids make it out of the mall with us, laughing and talking about me

We spent a total of 3 and a half hours at the mall. Three and a half hours of the worst humiliation of my life. Emotionally exhausted, my brain fried from shame, nearly doubling over in nausea and bad stomach cramps from all the ice cream, sweating profusely, 20 feet from the car, I realize I’m not gonna win this fight. I start crying. Not too loud, wet eyes but no tears yet, a noticeable whimper that just can’t be stopped.

Besides my dozen or so “fans” who followed me out, more teenagers hanging around the parking lot have now stopped what they were doing to watch.

“Oooh, oooh, watch!” Jesse says to Annie, “he cries like a little girl, too, hehe!”
 
“Shut uuUp!!” I, well, cry at her.
 
“Ariel, don’t tell your sister to shut up!” Mother shouts.

“Baby needs a diaper!” Annie mocks.
 
Quickly my sister’s imagination is stirred, “Ooh, next time we really should get Ariel a diaper, if he’s being a babyyyy!”
 
“Shut uuuuupppp,” I whine. Oh god, just leave me alone.
 
Everyone is yelling at the same time. The crowd is whispering and giggling. I get to the car and grab onto the door handle like it’s a life raft. Mother doesn’t hit the ‘unlock’ button on the keyfob as usual. Oh god, what’s happening? She walks over to the driver’s side, opens her own door, reaches in, and opens the backseat door. The girls get in, Mother gets in, and both doors slam shut. I start pulling at the passenger door handle desperately.
 
She turns the car on. I start bawling now, dripping with snot, oh my god, more and more people are coming up to watch. The passenger side window opens slightly. I grab onto it and start babbling, “puuhhhleeeze, let me in, *sob*, I’m sorry Moooommmmyyy, *sob*, puuhhhleeeeeazee-”
 
“Have you learned your lesson?”
 
“Yeee-essss!!!!” I cry, letting the shame completely engulf me, shaking. “Yes Mommy p-p-please, let me inNnNn!!!!”

“And what was the lesson, Ariel?”
 
I start saying “Mommy” more and more, like I’m trying to appeal to her better nature, to her nurturing side, as if she even has a nurturing side. Ugh, how pathetic. I am groveling while strangers stare and snicker. “I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry I lied to you Mommy, and, *sob*, and went behind your baaaack, an-and didn’t, *sob*, didn’t tell you about the shoooorrrts, and that--”
 
I hate myself. The girls are cracking up in the back seat. Mother yells, “Girls, be quiet! Your brother is apologizing!” They freeze.
 
I continue, “..and, and I’m sorry I betrayed you, PLEEEEEZE, pleeease Mommy I- I won’t ever do it agaaaaainnn, and I’ll wear *sniff* I’ll wear the speedo to swimming, I will, I promiseee, *sob*, I won’t complain anymooooree…” I feel like a toddler. I start breathing in giant gasps of air and braying out a cry of “PUHHLEEEZZZZ!!!,” over and over again. This display must be so pathetic that she relents. The door unlocks. I yank it open and jump in. Snot running down my face I beg, “pleeease Mohoooommy can I - *sob* - p-put my c-clothes oOOnnnnnNnNnN??”

I’m sweating, I’m shaking, the adrenaline is pumping.
 
“Now apologize to your sister.”
 
I turn to face Jesse in the backseat.  “I’m, *sob*, I’m *sob* I’m sorry for being a jerk all the tiiiime…”
 
“And for telling me to shut up just now!” Jesse adds.
 
“.. and for *sniff* always telling you to sh-shut uuuppp.. *sniff*”
 
“Now apologize to our guest, Annie.” Mother commands.
 
I almost start to say something, then realize the ridiculousness of that request. “Fo-fo-f-f…for whaaaaaat?” I cautiously ask as I look to Mother, tears in my eyes.
 
“For… allowing her to see you make such a spectacle of yourself and… for embarrassing yourself in public so badly.” she says flatly. Damn, she knows how to cut me down when I’m already down.

I look down at my plump thighs, squeezed against this car seat, and my big belly full of ice cream. I glance out the window and see my wet, puffy face in the side-view mirror, daffodil still in my hair. I look so incredibly stupid.
 
I turn my red eyes to Annie, her dumb face puckered in a mocking sneer. This is so freaking unfair! The girl who bought a damn flower hair pin with the sole purpose of humiliating me even more, the girl who convinced Mother I should twirl and curtsy, SHE is going to have me bowing down to her, AGAIN, at my most miserable, my most vulnerable!?! This is bullshit!!  
 
“A-Annie?” I begin, feeling so completely ashamed and angry. By now I have the crying under control, but I am trembling, truly shaking. “I’m..*sniff* I’m sorry you had to see me uhh, *sniff*, make such a spec- spectacle of myself, a-and *sniff* uh-”
 
“Embarrass yourself so bad!” my sister helps out.
 
“Em-embarrass... myself so, *sniff*, so *sniff*, so ba-ba, *sniff* so ba-ba-ba--baa--ba--”
 
Suddenly Annie gets right in my face and bleats, at full volume: “BAAA-A BAAA-A BAAA-A!! YOU SOUND LIKE A SHEEP!!!”
 
It’s like she stuck a pin in me and I finally popped. Maybe it was the shock at the suddenness of her outburst, or maybe it was just the plain meanness of her mocking me so.. so… childishly, at my most pathetic, most groveling moment-- I just lose it.
 
I go from sniffling toddler to bawling infant; I pull my knees up slightly and curl forward, my hands raise up in fists over my head, as if I’m going to protect myself from punches. I wail. Long, pathetic wails, interrupted only by huge gasps of air. Just straight up crying like a baby. This cruel little 11-year-old girl has finally got me fully crying, hot tears flowing.
 
“Ariel!!!” Mother shouts. “Stop your crying and apologize!”
 
I shriek for maybe 20 more seconds, shaking violently, until my whining start to grow quieter and I pull myself together, much as I can. The girls are besides themselves. Oh god, now I have to do it again, apologize to this little... fucking... bitch. I turn back around, my face a hot, snotty, tear-streaked mess. She has a disinterested look on her face.
 
“An- Annie?” I start again, trying to control my breathing.
 
“Uh, yeah?” she says in a really cocky Valley Girl way, like I’m a nerd daring to speak to a cheerleader.
 
I wipe wet eyes with the backs of my hands like a child, and look down in shame. “I’m sorry you had to, *sniff*, see me embarrass myself, *sniff* in public, *sniff* so badly.” My eyes pitifully start their journey up to meet hers. Her face is a mocking sneer. My eyes are huge and begging, my mouth open and quivering. 

She seems to think for a moment then adds: “And I realize now, that I do have a big girl butt, thank you for pointing that out, Annie. Say it!” Oh my god, this girl is the Devil. I don’t fight it. Tears flowing, I repeat it.

“And I realize nuh-n-now that I have a buh-buh-big g-girl butt,” I close my eyes and feel more tears run down my cheeks. I try slowing my breathing again, and look at her once more. “Than-thank you, for *sniff*, for pointing that *sniff* out, A-Annie.”

She crosses her arms and bursts into a big smile, a cocky expression, like she earned this, like she deserves this. “You’re welcome, Baby Ariel! And I forgive you!” she nods her head.

I realize one thing at that moment: She owns me now. There’s no regaining the upper hand after this.
 
I look back at Mother pitifully with a horrible pleading grimace.
 
“Ok, you can get dressed.”

I put my shirt on in record time, and pull my underwear and shorts over the speedo… I am not stripping down to nothing in front of Annie again!

“And give me back my daffodil.” Annie orders, matter of factly, in one last humiliating checkmate. “It looks stupid on you.”
 
--------------------------------
 
I am in a state of shock for the whole ride home, for the whole rest of the day. I stare off into space, not talking. How could this have happened? Hundreds of people saw me like that, at my most vulnerable, my most pathetic, a whimpering, groveling boy being publicly humiliated by his Mommy, by his sister, by some random little girl.
 
School starts in less than a month. How many kids from the mall will I be bumping into at school? Dozens? Hundreds? They won’t have forgotten this by September. They will never forget it. My life in this school, in this COUNTRY, is ruined.
 
Whatever small hope I still had inside me that the summer speedo humiliations would just be a passing thing, that somehow I’d be able to get over this and start school like a normal boy… it withered and died that day.

There would be no living this down.
 
That night I wet the bed.
 

Damn the mom is a bitch

Very fun story dont usually like ENM that much bit well written and just loved all the teasing and name calling.

If he thought the speedos were embarrassing wait until they all see his actual undies Annie seemed very interested in asking him about them.

Can't wait to read about him in the 'cage' in his actual undies... oh how embarrassing that will be especially if his sister and friends are around to see.

Also will be fun to see Annie and his sister upping their bullying and blackmail.. they love to tease him calling him a girl in panties so maybe they'll force him to wear some of their little girl knickers

AMERICAN HUMILIATIONS - PART 1 - CHAPTER 9

DUNGEONS AND HUMILIATIONS

The mall humiliation had its intended effect: I stopped complaining about the speedo, and gave up on any further schemes to get out of wearing it. My swimming class humiliators sure were happy to see its return, and doubled down on their teasing and bullying. Every day in school, whether it was swimming or ESL, I would hear "fat ass" and "Little Mermaid" and "swimming panties," I would be called a girl, a loser, a faggot, I would hear Under The Sea sung at me more times than I could stand.

I was shamed, I was cowed, and I steered clear of going behind Mother’s back on anything.
 
One side effect of this experience was a strange, almost magical transformation. To explain what I mean, we need to talk about Dungeons and Dragons.

In the early 90s, the famous role-playing game was often in the news because parents thought it would turn their children into devil-worshipping wizards, or something silly like that. I never played it, since I had no friends, but it looked really cool to me. In these games, players could acquire clothing or accessories that grant them different powers or attributes. Like, a cloak might give you +15 Stealth, but it also docks you -5 Speed.
 
Well, the speedo now functioned the same way for me, like a damn magical garment from hell, and Mother knew exactly when to use it. Here’s what I imagined my speedo special attributes to be:
 
Meekness +20
Politeness +10
Obedience +15
Groveling +8
Femininity +30
Patheticness +50
Self assertiveness: -40  
Self-respect: -100
 
Basically, put the speedo on me, and I turn into a sad, lost toddler, easily pushed into doing whatever I’m told.

And that’s precisely how I was to walk to school for that first post-mall humiliation swimming class on Tuesday afternoon: wearing only my speedo. Somehow the mall wasn’t enough for Mother, and this would be my final reminder to blindly obey her -- a torturous 10 minute walk to school.

Cesar, my “escort”, my betrayer, shows up right on time. Mother walks me out. My face is a mix of fury and pure humiliation, red, puffy, and wet with tears. I awkwardly try to cover up my speedfo-clad body with my arms, with my hands, but it’s no use. She gives me my towel and says to Cesar: “Ariel can wear the towel over his shoulder or around his neck, but he is not to cover himself up with the towel.”

My god, what a monster.

We start walking. I can feel the stares of passersby, their eyes burning into my skin. Cesar seemed nervous in front of Mother. Once we’re around the corner, he starts talking.

“Ariel, I’m sorry, I don’t know how she knew, but she just knew!”

I walk in silence, my towel over my shoulder as ordered, my body exposed to the world, stuffed into my tiny speedo, walking like a maricón, taking delicate little steps, like I have to pee. He follows.

“I really didn’t say anything, I swear, she was just like, “how is swimming class, is Ariel enjoying and behaving himself blah blah” and I acted completely normal and I said everything was fine but she was just like, “tell me the truth, what did Ariel do?” and she kept pushing and pushing…”

I continue walking. He stops following for a moment, then runs up to catch up with me. “Ariel, I swear, man, she just somehow knew, and she said if I wasn’t being honest, she was gonna talk to my mom and make me start wearing speedos to school, and I just... I couldn’t, so I… so I told her about the shorts...”

I remain silent, furious, humiliated.

“Look, I’m really sorry, but I didn’t have a choice!”

I am done with this asshole. He can “walk” me to school, but I’m not saying a word to him. He can keep tabs on me on Mother’s behalf during swim class, I don’t care. Screw him. If it wasn’t for him the mall humiliation would never have happened!!!

But it did happen. And I have to deal with it, and its consequences.

Another swimming class of humiliations, now happening outside of school, too. A walk home in my speedos (with Cesar tagging along, of course), while a half dozen kids follow me, teasing and calling me names the whole time. At least Cesar gets to enjoy some second-hand humiliation, as my "keeper."

Put the speedo on me and I am the world’s biggest loser.

Put the speedo on me and I am a meek little girl, always on the verge of tears.

Put the speedo on me and I am, apparently, a bed-wetter.

Some backstory: when I was an actual toddler, I frequently wet the bed. Lots of kids did. OK, maybe I was still doing it when I was a little older than a toddler. But that was so long ago I hardly remembered it. Rest assured the feeling of hot, wet shame, the smell, the frustration, Mother’s yelling -- it all came rushing back.

The night after the mall incident, I just can’t fall asleep. I cannot shut my brain off, reliving the humiliation in a nightmarish loop. After what feels like hours of tossing and turning, I fall into a brief, blissful lack of consciousness.

Suddenly I jolt up in a panic, covered in sweat. I roll around and realize, my god, this can’t all be sweat. I stumble out of bed and start pulling the covers off in a panic.

“What you doinnng?” my sister hangs her head over the top bed sleepily (we were in a bunk-bed situation in our shared bedroom) to see me bundling up all my bed sheets, the front of my pajamas soaked. I don’t know what my plan could’ve possible been.

“Jesse, please don’t tell mom, I’ll take care of it!” I whisper, frantically gesturing at her to keep quiet.

“EEWWWW!!” She yells as loud as possible. “MOOOOM!!!! EWWW!!! ARIEL PEEEEED HIMSELF!!!”

“Shhhh!!!” I try shushing her, hoping there might still be some way to keep this to ourselves, but there is no hiding this... I am… I am soaked. Mother bursts into the room.

“Oh no, Ariel,” she moans with almost a hint of sympathy in her voice. “How bad is it?” I lift my arms up to show my soaked pajamas. “I’m too tired for this, Ariel. Just leave your bed sheets and your clothes on the bathroom floor, go get cleaned up, I’ll… I’ll take care of this,” she gestures to the bed.

I nod sheepishly, surprised there isn’t any screaming.

“Dammit, I thought you were over this,” she says, disappointment dripping from her voice.

“S-sorry, Mommy..” I mumble, and waddle to the bathroom to peel off my pee-soaked clothes while Mother deals with the mattress. I want to scream at her that this is obviously related to my humiliating, spirit-crushing, world-altering little performance at the mall earlier, so this is technically her fault, but.. I just feel too ashamed.

Afterwards I continue apologizing to Mother profusely, and thank her for cleaning up my mess. “It won’t happen again, it was an accident, I promise!” Gosh I hope I’m right. I’m miserable all day, watching TV, doing homework, vegging out around the house, I can’t get the mounting horrors out of my head.

That night Mother puts a big plastic sheet under my bed covers. “This is how you sleep from now on. Just in case,” she tells me. Jesse won’t stop teasing me and calling me a baby. I have another bad night’s sleep, the plastic crinkling under me all night, but luckily, no peeing.

INSULT TO INJURY

On Sunday afternoon Annie visits. I’m watching Twilight Zone: The Movie on cable in the living room, still shell-shocked, trying to distract myself from the most horrible weekend of my life. She runs in and plops herself right next to me on the couch. I just don’t know how to behave around her now, after the way she treated me at the mall, after my forced apology, after crying like a baby in front of her. I just feel profoundly embarrassed and emasculated.

“Hi geek!” she greets me. Ok, so this “geek” thing is just gonna keep happening. Great. “Sooooooooooo,” she leans her head on the palm of one hand in mock interest. “What’s new with you?” she smiles a big, satisfied, superior smile.

I want to tell her to shut up, tell her she’s an annoying, mean, ugly monster, but after the mall I just… I just…

“Nothing,” I mumble.

She speaks in quick, short bursts. “Really? Nothing? New or interesting? Has happened? Since we had all that fun at the mall yesterday? Really?”

I feel my mouth tighten. “N-no.”

I no longer have any authority over her; it doesn’t matter that I’m older or that I’m a boy or that this is my house. It’s like she’s in control now. I’ve become a six-year-old little boy and she my older bully. I glance at her, all these emotions running through my face, praying she leaves me alone.

The little geek continues: “Nooooo?? Well, I heard, from a little birdie, that you totally peeeed yourself, oh my GAWD it musta been SOOO embarrassing, no wonder you’re trying to lie about it!”

Dammit, Jesse already blabbed!

“It was GROOOSSSS!” my sister adds helpfully. 

I start burning up. Annie inches closer and continues needling me. “Remember how yesterday, I was calling you a baby, because you were crying so much, and now you go and pee yourself, it’s like you really ARE a baby!” 

My eyebrows can’t help but arch up pathetically, briefly revealing how hurt I really am, before I manage to make myself look close to neutral again. Annie is just staring at me with that amused, toothy grin, wide-eyed behind those big glasses. She cruelly continues:

“I think from now on we should call you Baby Ariel all the time!”

“We should get him some diapers,” Jesse adds. 

“Oh for sure, Baby Ariel totally needs diapers!” Annie sing-songs. Geez, the frequency at which this is getting brought up is starting to worry me, knowing how open Mother is to their crazy suggestions when she wants to punish me, or teach me a lesson.
 
I just frown and look away, a prisoner in my own home. After a few moments I realize she’s been talking and I’ve been lost inside my own head.

“Well, was it?” Annie says, annoyed.

“Was what whaaat??” I whine.

“Was it super embarrassing, that you totally peed yourself, even though you’re 12 and a half years old?” she says the last part in the weird snooty accent she sometimes uses when picking on me.

I am so taken aback whenever she asks me humiliating, direct questions like this that I can’t help but flinch a little.

“Aw, poor widdle Baby Awiel, is he gonna cwy???” she asks with mock pity in her eyes.

I turn my head to the TV without responding. I’m not gonna cry. I’m not gonna cry.

Jesse, getting bored, tugs at Annie’s arm. “C’mon Annie, Ariel is a moody teenage baby, lets go play.”

“We can talk more about this later, Baby Ariel, who knows, maybe even more embarrassing stuff will happen to you,” she says grimly. Then back to childlike: “See ya, geek! Wouldn’t wanna be ya!” and skips off.

I can’t even hear the TV anymore, just the thumping of my pulse in my ears. Did she just threaten me? How can I survive this little monster coming over all the time and going after me??

At the rate things are going maybe I’ll get lucky and die of shame before school even starts.

AMERICAN HUMILIATIONS - PART 1 - CHAPTER 10

NO CONTROL

The weeks leading up to September would see my dignity further stripped from me until it seemed I had very little agency left over my own life.

Every day I am a ball of nerves: jumpy, paranoid, tense -- whether I’m in ESL class, swimming class, or at home, whether I’m with strangers, with my family, or… with Annie -- there is never a moment to relax.

Whenever I happen to see my sad, speedo-clad reflection anywhere, I seem to look even more ridiculous than before... it’s as if my butt and thighs are bigger every time. I must be imagining it. How is it possible I’m tall and lanky and skinny all over… but still so plump and jiggly around my butt??

The nausea is becoming more constant. I’m not sure it’s even nausea, it’s like a cold, goosebumpy feeling that starts in my groin, then everything tightens, the goosebumps spread to my whole body, almost like a cold wave. I can be fine one moment and then at the mention of Annie’s name, or at a mere thought of swimming class, it hits me instantly.

What a running joke my life has become since I got to this country just 6 months ago. I am completely losing control. I do my best to not get in my sister’s face, I try to keep to myself, but no matter what, we still get into fights. Not even big fights, just small dumb stuff. But once Jesse yells “MOM!” it’s over. That’s all there is.

Mother will storm in and threaten me: “Ariel if you don’t stop bothering your sister you are putting on that speedo and we are going for a walk around the block!”

I shut up. Jesse wins. Again.

On a Wednesday after ESL class I am watching Batman: The Animated Series, when Jesse bounces into the room, announces that Annie is coming over and they need the TV. Mother is usually at work until night time but today she has off.

I start protesting, Jesse yells, I yell, and there she goes again: “MOM!!! Ariel is hogging the TV!!”

Mother stomps in, nostrils flaring. She looks at me, she looks at Jesse, she looks back at me.

“Ariel, go put on your speedo, NOW!”

“But MO--”

She grabs me by the ear and pulls me into mine and Jesse’s bedroom, then nearly pushes me into the dresser. “I want you out there in 10 seconds in your speedo and nothing else or I swear to god I’m sending you back to live with your father in Argentina!!!!”

In the time it takes her to scream that sentence my eyes are already watering and I am blubbering and whining. In a panic I pull off my shorts and underwear and tug the speedo on. Tug tug tug.

Meekness +20
Politeness +10
Obedience +15

I take off my shirt and socks and run back out into the living room, feeling my butt jiggling with every step. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry mommy puhhleeezzzee!!!” I cry out.

Groveling +8
Femininity +30
Patheticness +50

She steps to the front door and yanks it open. “Get out there!”

“Mommy p-please, not like this, puhhlleeeeze!!!!”

“NOW!”

I shuffle miserably out the door, pigeon-toed, feeling like a chubby girl. “But mommy, *sniff*, Annie is coming oooover!” I protest.

“Nothing she hasn’t seen before,” she says coldly. And she’s right.

She grabs me by the shoulders from behind and pushes me forwards until I’m halfway between the front door and the security gate. Perfectly centered in The Cage. “Hands behind your head. Like this..” she grabs my hands, places them behind my head, and makes me interlock my fingers. She kicks my feet apart slightly. The pose makes me very taut, my chest sticking out.

“This is your obedient pose,” she snarls, a weird term that makes more sense in its original Spanish. “You are not to move!! I need some peace and quiet! You stand here and think about what you’ve done! I’ll be checking through the peephole, if you move I’m taking the speedo and leaving you here butt naked!”

“Yes Mommy, I’m sorry!!”

Self assertiveness: -40  
Self-respect: -100

She slams the door shut. I can’t think about what I’ve done. I don’t even know what I’ve done.

CAGE MATCH

Soon I hear the buzzing of the front door. Jesse comes out, ducks under my arm, and opens the security gate. She turns back to look at me and giggles. “Is your speedo getting smaller? Hahaha.” My eyes are giant and pleading, as if she could somehow help me out of this predicament.

Then, quick footsteps, running up the stairs.

My groin tightens, pain, nausea working overtime. I bend over slightly to try to alleviate it, but then remember Mother’s warning: don’t move or she’s taking the speedo. I straighten up again, my stomach in knots.

“Hi geek!” Annie shouts, then catches her breath. She takes a long slow look at me, taut and trembling, posed how Mother has left me. I lower my head in shame until my chin touches my chest.

“Wow, Baby Ariel, you really must be a pervert!”

“Ariel’s a pervert!” Jesse sing-songs.

“You like having little girls seeing you in your panties, don’t you, you pervert!??” Annie continues, rapid-fire and laughing.

“Nooo, I don’t WANNA be doing this,” I dumbly retort. “M-my mom’s making meeee--” god I feel sick.

“Oh, I thought you liked your European style speedo,” she bursts into a fit of giggles. I blush harder.

“I bet he’s enjoying this,” Jesse says to Annie. Then, to me: “I bet you’re enjoying this, you perrrrvert!”

“I’m nohhhht!” I whine, feeling more pathetic by the second.

“Are you gonna get a boner, since you’re enjoying this so much?” Annie teases, saying boner in a goofy accent.

“Stahhhhp!” I whine.

“You probably don’t even get boners, right, since you’re just a widdle baby, huh?” She laughs.

“Uugggghhhhh,” I moan, my groin hurting. My balls feel so small, like they’re shrinking in shame. “Please just leave me alooone...”

She takes a couple of steps and gets within two inches of me. She gets on her tippy toes, looks up right into my face. I look up and away.

“Baby Ariel, look at me.”

Grimacing, I slowly meet her eyes.

“How do you feel, Baby Ariel?” Annie asks, seriously.

“Whuuu??”

“How. Do. You. Feel?”

“What do you mean, how do I feeeeel?” I whine.

“How do you feel?”

I sneer. “I feel great!”

“Really?”

“I feel fantastic!” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes, my chin now quivering.

Annie gives me a pitying, expectant look, as if I’m supposed to say more. She is so close to me it’s making me uncomfortable.

“Aw, but really, Baby Ariel, how do you feel?”

“Fine!” I almost shout. “Now go away!”

“Aw, I think Baby Ariel is gonna cry…” she says to Jesse.

“Ssss.. schTHAAPT ITTTT!!” I moan.

She gets even closer. “It’s ok, Baby Ariel… how do you feel?”

“Why????”

“How do you feel, Baby Ariel?”

“I dunno, leave me ALONE!”

“How do you feel?”

“I feel suh.. suh.. suh-tu-- why do you care!!”

“How do you feel, Baby Ariel?”

“I feel reh-ruh-”

“What’s that?”

“I feel reTARDED, ok!”

“Well, you look retarded.”

I turn my head, on the verge of tears.

“Aw, are you gonna cry and pee yourself now, widdle baby?”

“Shut uuuuupppp,” I whine some more, my eyes watering.

“C’mon, I bet you wanna do it in front of us, pervert. Pee in your little panties!”

I shut my eyes. I know if I open them again I’m gonna start full-on crying. I keep them shut and start humming a song in my head.

“Pee, pee, pee, pee, pee!” Annie starts chanting, and Jesse joins. “Pee pee pee pee pee pee!”

Oh my god. This is craziness. I don’t open my eyes. They are relentless, but I don’t open my eyes. I’m done. Eventually they get tired and leave me alone. An hour later I’m allowed back into my own house, where I’m ordered to keep the speedo on for the rest of the night.

THINGS TO COME

Friday is my final ESL class of the summer. My teacher tells me I was one of the best students she’s ever had. This shocks me, as I feel I’ve been hardly able to concentrate on anything besides the personal hell that is my life for the past three months. As I head out of school for my final weekend before 7th grade starts, I see my Official School Bully Ryan and his two buddies hanging outside the main entrance. I switch directions but he’s already seen me.

“Hey, Little Mermaid!” oh god, why’s he shouting!? I cringe as the dozen kids milling about turn to look. I keep walking.

“Arieeeellll,” ugghh, that horrible high pitched catcall! I start walking faster. “Hey sissy, wait up!!” he shouts as he runs up to me, then starts casually walking next to me, as if we’re friends.

“Are you excited for school to start? Shit, it’s like it never even ended, right? Heh.” He says everything like he’s chuckling. It’s so strange how he talks to me in a normal, friendly way, while making fun of me all the while. It really throws me off.

“Oh.. uh… yeah, hahah… ok Ryan.” I say idiotically.

“I heard about what you did at the mall, heh,” he smirks.

My eyes widen in a panic and I turn red. What I did? Humiliate the hell out of myself?? He notices and laughs.

“Steve saw you eating ice cream like a piggie, he said they were calling you the Food Court Faggot! Holeeeyyy sheeeiit…” he laughs like this is all a big joke.

I deflate like a popped balloon.

“...and you had a flower in your hair, too?" he looks as if he’s not surprised to know that fact. "So, are you like, a fag? Heh.”

Oh god I want to turn invisible.

“So I miss your little show at the pool, and I miss your show at the mall… I’m starting to feel left out, Little Mermaid.”

I don’t know how to respond to this. I just keep walking, looking at the sidewalk, looking at my own shoes.

“Maybe we’ll end up having some of the same classes, yeah?” he says menacingly.

“Uh, I gotta go, Ryan...” I mumble and turn a corner.

“Ok well, I’ll see you on Monday! Bye Little Mermaid!” he shouts as I scurry off.

By the time I get home I’m having severe stomach cramps from anxiety.

I go to bed that night absolutely terrified of what the next week will bring. The plastic under my sheet crinkles as I toss and turn all night. If I knew better, if I truly knew what was coming, I’d hold on to this moment, to this relative calm.

On Saturday morning I again wake up in a puddle of my own pee.

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END OF PART 1 – Ariel will return for more misadventures in part 2 of American Humiliations

Hope he has to have his tiny dick exposed in-front of the swim class soon! Looking forward to see what happens!