Pink Christmas by prissy chrissy (Christopher Prim) 1998
Part One: Morning Surprises
"Rise and shine, Neal"
The honey sweet sound of my stepmother's voice pulled me unwillingly from sleep "C'mon, Monica, it's too early" I grumbled.
"No whining now, sleepy head." She gently scolded me and pulled back the curtains, flooding the room with morning sunlight and blinding me in the process "It's Christmas morning and the whole family is just waiting for you."
"OK, OK," I squawked, rubbing my eyes "I'll be down in a minute."
"Right this second, Grumpy Gus" she replied, giving me no chance to argue as she took me by the hand and pulled me off the bed. I wanted to complain about being treated like a child -- Again! -- After all, I WAS almost twenty-two years old. But, still half asleep and half blind, it took all my concentration just to keep from falling as she dragged me out the door and down the hallway.
I did not get along well at all with Monica. In the first place, she was only a year older than me. In fact, we were in high school together. She had been a cheerleader and, I must confess, the object of several of my fantasies. Though I doubt if she even knew I existed back then.
I still found her very attractive, of course, but I suspected the only thing she saw in my Dad was financial security. They had met after I went away to college. She had answered an ad my Dad had placed at the small college in town for a live in housekeeper and caretaker for my little sister, Jennifer, then just ten years old. In the ensuing three years she wormed her way into the hearts of my family, and after she graduated my Dad proposed. She accepted, naturally, and I returned home for the first time since leaving to attend their August wedding. Voicing my suspicions about the real reason such a beauty was willing to marry a man in his fifties didn't go over well. Apparently, both my Dad and my sister thought the sun shone from her backside, and I had been forced to apologize. I could tell that my reluctant apology didn't satisfy Monica, though, the steely gaze she gave me at the time seemed to promise revenge, and made me shudder.
Revenge she had. I had been expecting to go back to Yale for my fourth year of higher education. My plans were changed, however, when Monica got a look at my transcript. I admit, I wasn't the most diligent of students. My Father, besides paying my tuition, also provided me with a generous allowance. Enough to rent an off campus apartment, and I took the opportunity to host a steady stream of parties. It paid off, I was much more popular than I had been in high school, but my studies suffered. I had barely avoided being thrown out of school, and unless there was a drastic change there was no chance I would earn my degree at the end of the year. When Monica discovered this she convinced my Dad that I should transfer to her school. Where I could be supervised, as she put it. Despite my pleas and promises to buckle down, Monica had her way, and I was living at home once more.
Once here, my troubles really started. Monica took her roll as "Mother" seriously. As far as she was concerned, I was a child, and expected to obey her rules. I complained about this to my Dad, but he said Monica was the Mistress of the house and, if I didn't like it, nobody was stopping me from moving out. Of course, I wasn't about to take a mere menial position, but without a degree that was all I could hope for. So I had no choice but to put up with Monica's domineering ways until I graduated.
She wasted no time in asserting her dominance either. First, she made me shave off the mustache and goatee I had been cultivating for years. Then, after I had come to the breakfast table a few times with a little stubble, she took it one step further. Declaring that "Since you aren't mature enough to take the time to groom yourself properly. We'll just have to make it easier for you" she took me to her beautician to have electrolysis performed. I protested, but I was assured that my facial hair would start growing again "In a year or so" and, since it would save me the trouble of shaving every morning, I decided not to make a scene.
Next, Monica decided my wardrobe needed a change. Out went my blue jeans and tee shirts, and in came neatly pressed slacks and dress shirts. Then, she arranged my schedule. Every moment of my day was planned. When I woke up, left for school, arrived home, did my homework and even when I bathed, was decided by Monica. That wasn't the worst of it, though. For the first time in years, I had a bedtime! At first, it was set at eleven o'clock, an hour after my sisters, which wasn't so bad. I was usually ready to drop by that time anyway. But a month later, when my grades weren't up to Monica's expectations, she declared I needed more sleep and sent me to bed at ten. I complained, but it didn't get me anywhere, and eventually I decided to go along with this new indignity without too much fuss. It seemed my passiveness only encouraged Monica, though. A month after that, my grades still weren't good enough to satisfy her, and she moved my bedtime up to nine! There was no way I was going to put up with that! It was ridiculous for a twenty-one year old man to be sent to bed an hour before his fourteen year old sister, and I told Monica exactly that. She just smirked at me, though, calmly informing me that Jennifer got straight A's and generally behaved more maturely than I did. She also told me that if my grades didn't improve next month I could look forward to being tucked in at eight!
I didn't give up that easily, but I soon wished I had. I was so upset that I threw a tantrum and CURSED at her! That immediately earned me a slapped face, and then I was dragged by the ear up the stairs and to the bathroom where my mouth was washed out with soap! With my sister Jennifer watching the whole thing and laughing! Next she pulled me, already sobbing like a baby, into my bedroom where she pulled me over her lap and delivered three sharp swats to my behind. It didn't hurt that much, physically, but my pride was shattered. Then she turned me over, still holding me in her lap, and proceeded to lecture me like a naughty little boy. She promised me that the next time I sassed her -- Or my sister! -- Or misbehaved in anyway, she would me take over her knee and spank me with my Daddy's belt till I blistered! Like a little boy, I could do nothing but cry and promise to be good in response to her humiliating threats.
Since then, I've been on my best behavior. To tell the truth, I was scared to death of her. At five foot ten she seemed to tower over my slender, five foot three inch frame, and I knew she was a good deal stronger than me. She worked out religiously, both aerobics and weight lifting. I had once tried out her Nautilus right after she finished her workout and I couldn't even BUDGE the thing! Needless to say, I was in no hurry to test her resolve to carry out her threats.
That didn't mean I didn't protest against her high handed treatment of me though. Having regained a sense of equilibrium, I was about to do just that. Before I could open my mouth, though, our arrival in the living room was greeted by a high pitched squeal of "Oh, how cute. Those are darling p.j's, Neal, honey." Followed by a chorus of laughter.
I looked in the direction of the voice and couldn't stop a whimper from escaping my throat when I recognized the blurry image. Monica's little sister, Erica. A virtual carbon copy of her sister and a frequent guest at our home. She was nineteen and a junior at my school. Since I didn't have a car, she gave me a ride to and from school each day. Of course, she was well acquainted with Monica's treatment of me, she was even more blatant in humiliating me. Every morning I had to greet her by saying "Good morning, Auntie Erica" and kiss her on the cheek before she would let me in the car. Then she would "help" me into the back seat and buckle my seatbelt for me. This performance was repeated every afternoon before she would drive me home as well. No matter who was around. I could not afford to be late to school, since that would hurt my grades. Nor was I willing to risk Monica's wrath by being late arriving home. So I had no choice but to submit to this humiliation. Erica also would introduce me to her friends as "her little nephew" so, thanks to her, I was the laughing stock of the school! So I wasn't at all happy to see her.
Sitting next to her was an apish young man I dimly recognized as one of the jocks at school. I assumed he must be Erica's latest boyfriend. Also present was Monica's mother, a women in her late forties who was still quite stunning. Jennifer and our Dad completed the group, and everyone was looking at me and laughing!
I felt my cheeks heating in embarrassment as I processed Erica's words and looked down at myself, fully expecting to find that Monica had dragged out of bed in my usual sleeping attire, a pair of bikini briefs. Humiliating as that would have been, what I discovered was far worse -- I was wearing my little sister's pink, one piece footsies!
Part Two: A Very Special Present
Shocked to wakefulness, and blushing as pink as my outfit, I tried to explain "These aren't mine, they're Jennifer's"
"Naughty, naughty" Erica said in mock admonishment "Little boys shouldn't wear their sister's clothes"
"I don't wear her clothes" I wailed, tears of frustration and shame welling up in my eyes "And I'm not a little boy"
I would have fled the room then, but Monica had a firm grip on my shoulders. "Of course you aren't, Dear" she comforted me, voice dripping with saccharine, but at least she took my side "Actually, I made Neal wear Jennifer's jammies" she explained "You see, Neal had a little accident last night..."
"It wasn't an accident" I interrupted "Jennifer pushed me in that puddle" I gave my sister an angry glare to make my point "This is all her fault!"
She was unperturbed though "Me?" she said, the very picture of innocence "How is it my fault that you like to wear my things?"
"That's a lie!" I shouted, afraid that everyone would think I was some kind of sissy "You take that back!"
Jennifer just smirked at me "Why don't you make me, little Nelly" she taunted, using her favorite belittling nickname. One that I absolutely detested.
I was so mad that I probably would have attacked her if Monica hadn't been holding me. Which was probably for the best. One of the most humiliating changes I had to deal with since my return was one that Monica actually had nothing to do with. My fourteen year old sister, who when I left was just a little brat that I lorded it over, was now bigger -- And stronger -- than I was! A fact she wasn't at all hesitant to demonstrate. Or gloat about.
"Now children, no fighting on Christmas Day" Monica broke off our little standoff in her "Mommy" tone, one that we both knew better than to argue with "As I was saying" she continued "Neal fell in the puddle out front when we came home from Midnight Mass. Well, you know how cold it was, and the poor dear was chilled to the bone. To make a long story short, I was afraid he would catch cold, and, since he didn't have any warm jammies of his own, I insisted he wear Jennifer's" She gave me a comforting hug then "So there's nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart" she said to me, giving me a little peck on the forehead "I'm sure everyone understands and won't tease you any more"
I wasn't so sure about that, and I'm afraid I was blushing more than ever as I remembered the details of my "accident" and its aftermath. Details I was thankful Monica hadn't shared. I shivered as I recalled emerging from the ice cold puddle of rain water that forms next to our driveway whenever it rains. I immediately accused Jennifer of pushing me, but, wide eyed, she protested her innocence. Since Monica never took my word over anyone's and, somehow, my Dad had formed the opinion that I was a habitual liar who would rather make a baseless accusation than admit any fault of my own, Jennifer got away with her dirty trick, as usual. I suppose if Monica wasn't in such a generous mood last night I would have been punished for fibbing! She was the picture of Motherly concern, though, throwing her own coat over me and bundling me upstairs for a hot bath.
I expected her to leave as soon as she started the water running, instead she started undressing me! I tried to stop her, but I might as well have been fighting a hurricane. Almost before I knew what was happening my coat and jacket were off and my pants were down around my ankles! "STOP!" I yelled as she pushed me down on the toilet seat with one hand and pulled my briefs down with the other!
"Hush, Baby" she calmly replied "I've seen little boys before"
"I'm not a little boy" I screeched, absolutely mortified "I'm a grown man"
"Well, start acting like it then" she answered, completely unruffled, and started untying my laces "Stop trying to hide your little thing and take off your tie and shirt while I get your shoes" I didn't move a muscle. "Oh for Pete's sake" she said, looking up at me with a mocking grin "I promise I won't look"
Somehow, she made me feel as if I were the one who was being unreasonable. So I did as she said and started fumbling with my tie. She was true to her word, and her eyes didn't once stray to my privates as she pulled off my shoes and then my pants and undies. I had only managed to undo the knot in my tie by then so she pulled me to my feet, and turning me around so my back was to her started helping me with the buttons of my shirt. Still not so much as glancing at my exposed manhood.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" she cheerfully said, pulling my shirt off my shoulders and pushing past me to rummage in the medicine cabinet. I stammered a less than heartfelt agreement, once more using my hands to shield myself and taking the extra precaution
keeping my back to her. This caused her to giggle "Really, Neal, you don't have anything to be modest about" she snickered, handing me a jar of some noxious cream "Here, start rubbing this into your legs, it will help to warm you up"
The stuff smelled horrible. But, despite how much I must have been blushing, I still felt like an icicle. So I gratefully took it and began to vigorously do as instructed while Monica checked on the bath. She returned just as I finished my legs and, after telling me start on my groin area, slipped a bathing cap over my head and began stuffing my long hair into it. I protested, but she argued that since it was the one thing that was dry I certainly didn't want to get it wet now. That made sense, so I went along with it. I did have a great head of hair, girls were always complimenting me on it, and I was glad Monica hadn't made me cut it. She seemed to like it too, though, and said that as long as I kept it neat and clean she had no problems. She even helped me take care of it. One of the few things I enjoyed about my new life was when she would help me brush my hair out before bed and in the morning. Hair taken care of, she started to help rub the cream over the rest of my body.
It certainly was warming me. In fact, I was starting to feel like my skin was on fire. I told Monica this and she smiled and said "Oh good, it's working. Now just wait a little while and let it do its job" After an extremely uncomfortable seeming eternity Monica finally gave me the okay to get into the bath.
By then I was more than eager to do so and scampered over to the tub, not even complaining when I discovered a bountiful layer of bubbles in my bath. After dipping a toe in, though, I changed my mind "It's too hot!" I squawked.
Monica "Tsked" "Oh stop whining, Neal" she admonished, and unceremoniously scooped me up and deposited me in the steaming water. Ignoring my squeals of protest she started scrubbing and scolding me at the same time "I swear, when Jennifer was ten she was less babyish than you are" she said. Again somehow managing to make me feel guilty and ashamed when she was the one who was out of line! She wasn't making any more allowances for my modesty, either. Every inch of me was scrubbed until my skin was a glowing shade of pink.
When she finally pulled me out from under the bubbles, sobbing in shame, I had another terrible surprise. "My hair!" I wailed, discovering that I was now as hairless as a babe from the neck down!
It only took me a moment to realize what the true purpose of the odorous cream had been "You tricked me" I whimpered, trying my best to give Monica an accusatory glare through my tears.
That just earned me a slap on my bare butt "There you go again" she scolded, wrapping me up in a fluffy pink towel "Being a crybaby and blaming someone else for your problems. I told you it would help get you warm and that's exactly what it did. And there's nothing to cry about. It will all grow right back. It's not like you were planning to show off your "manly" body any time soon. Is it?" I only sobbed in response to her tirade. She took that as an affirmative "I didn't think so" she giggled "Okay, Weepy Willow, off to your bedroom, and Mommy will be right behind you to tuck you in." She gave me another smack on the bottom to hurry me along. I'd had more than enough for one night, so I didn't even argue when she gave me Jennifer's pink footsies to wear. I just pulled them on, grateful to at least be covering my shamefully denuded body, crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep.
I shuddered again at the memory, and couldn't help but wonder if it was all part of some plan. But that sounded a little paranoid even to me. So I shoved the thought aside as Monica led me in front oof the tree and pushed me down to sit on the floor. Everyone else was sitting on chairs or the couch, and I felt especially childish having to crane my neck to look at them. Especially since they all seemed to be staring at me with weird, mocking grins. Monica was smiling warmly at me though, the smile that made me forget all the indignities she put me through and almost start to like her. I couldn't help but smile back at her as she handed me a gaily wrapped package "This is a very special present for you, Neal darling, something I know you'll really love, and I wanted it to be the first thing opened this Christmas," she said, looking so beautiful, loving and kind that I found myself wishing she really was my Mother.
I nervously took the package from her hands and smiled weakly at the assembled family as they all encouraged me to open it. I was full of curiosity as to what it could be. It seemed obvious that everyone knew what it was and were eager to see my reaction to it. The box wasn't at all heavy and I would have guessed it contained clothing. But I was sure that wouldn't have excited everyone so much.
The pink wrapping paper put me off a little, I'd had my fill of pink. But I'd never met a present I didn't like, so I quickly tore the wrapping off and expectantly opened the box. The contents couldn't have startled me more. Stunned and unbelieving, I pulled it out of the box and held it up for more thorough examination. But my first estimate had been correct, I had received a little girl's pink, satin party dress!
- (Part 3 & 4 missing & requested) -
