The Adventures of Sammy Watkins

[Sandra B]

You're right.  It shouldn't have been left to the reader's imagination.  But Daphne's not finished with him yet.

[Andlat]

I was so hoping there was more to come!

[Sandra B]

Exploit the Second:  The Costume Party

1.
After the adventure of the doll box, Patricia and Cecily began to develop a close friendship.  They found much to like about each other.  They were both cheerful and easy-going, and both had a wicked sense of humour.  Vivien always had an underlying current of anxiety, mainly connected with her son.  But Patricia, having the one delightful little girl, and Cecily, being childless, were far more relaxed about life.  They started meeting for coffee, then for drinks, and they found that, when they were together, they were both bubbling over with chatter, and the time passed very quickly and very pleasantly.  If the conversation ever lapsed, one of them would look at the other and say,
“I still think of Sammy’s face, when we left him in that shop window!”
And they would both dissolve in giggles.
“And he looked so sweet in his little leotard!”
“What a shame we couldn’t…”
“I know.  But I suppose he had his punishment.  Didn’t he?”

Sammy remembered the incident with quite different sentiments.  He was no longer quite so trusting of his aunt, and viewed any invitation to help in one of her art projects with a degree of suspicion.  But the person he regarded as most culpable was Daphne.  She had made such a fuss about losing a silly old doll, the grown-ups had no choice but to punish him.  And she was the one who decreed he must remain in the shop window half the afternoon.  The fall-out from that day was still being felt.  The whole school had quickly been made aware of his humiliation, and the photos of his and videos of his embarrassment were now common property.  He was heartily sick of being asked if he was going to join the ballet club, if he was wearing girls’ panties, and if he would like to play dolls or dress-up.  He was constantly on the alert for an opportunity to revenge himself, but so far none had presented itself.

It was a couple of weeks later.  It was still party season, as Daphne’s little friends turned ten one by one.  Sammy was at Cecily’s, when who should turn up but Patricia and Daphne.  Daphne was all excited.  The coming Saturday it was her friend Amelia’s birthday party – a costume party.  Daphne was desperate to show “Auntie Cecily” her costume.  She was jumping up and down like she was on a spring.  It was the sort of thing that made Sammy nauseous, little girls getting all worked up over their stupid clothes - especially after his recent experience.  He expressed his view by sticking two fingers in his mouth, eliciting a warning frown from his aunt.
“Would you like to come, Sammy?  It’s going to be such fun!” gasped Daphne, who was now engaged in a sort of staccato dance, as the only way of letting out her feelings.
“No I wouldn’t!  A costume party?  What a stupid idea.”
“Well, you looked nice in your costume at my party,” said Daphne, slyly, becoming temporarily stationary.
“Shut up!”
“You did!  All my friends were envious of your pretty yellow leotard.  But you could wear something different this time if you liked.”  She looked thoughtful.  “Maybe a fairy?  Oh, no, I think Courtney’s going to be a fairy…  Maybe…”
Sammy needed to cut her short.  She’d been capitalising on his embarrassment every time she’d seen him since that awful day.  He knew abuse would be returned with interest, so he decided his only recourse was to divert her mind back to herself.
“So what’s so special about your costume?”
She took the bait.
“Oh, Sammy!  Wait till you see it!  I’m not going to tell you.  Mummy, can I please, please, put it on now to show auntie Cecily?”
“Oh, all right, dear.  Cec?  Can we go upstairs so she can change?  Let Daphne show you her costume, then the kids can play and we can have a chat.”  The “chat”, which would last most of the day, being the prime reason for the visit in the first place.

Sammy threw himself into a chair with a sigh.  He winced at the remembrance of Daphne’s party, which he had been striving to put out of his mind.  A good hour of immobility, being pointed at, stared at, laughed at, and generally being the centre of attention.  And then, when he was finally released from his box, the torrent of stupid questions, the admiring glances, the pawing and the whispering and the giggling!  Too much!  And knowing his box was still intact in his aunt’s studio, and his ballet outfit stowed neatly in the top drawer of the bedroom, taunted him with memories of his humiliation, and caused continual faint twinges of anxiety.

Ah.  They were coming down.  Daphne was babbling non-stop, now almost hysterical with excitement.  She burst into the room.  Oh, god.  How completely inappropriate.  An angel!  White leotard, white mesh skirt, white tights, white shoes, and a big pair of feathery wings on her back.  She made a little hop into the middle of the room, her face alight with happiness, looking from Cecily to Sammy and back again, waiting for their reactions.
“So you’re a nasty, ugly witch,” said Sammy, sarcastically.  “I like it.”
“Don’t be horrid!” she blurted.  “I hate you!”
“Darling, you look absolutely beautiful,” eulogised Cecily, frowning pointedly at Sammy.  “What a wonderful costume.  Those wings…”
“Isn’t it, aunt?  The wings are real feathers, see?  And the skirt and the tights…see the little silver sparkles?”
Sammy groaned.
“Sammy?  If you have nothing pleasant to contribute, you can go outside.  Yes, now.”
He dragged himself out of his chair, and passed through the kitchen, pausing only to grab a chocolate bar, into the garden.  He sat in a garden chair, sulking.  Why was he here anyway?  He could have gone to his friend Danny’s house.  Except after those pictures had got round, Danny wasn’t so eager to see him any more.  It wasn’t fair.  They had no idea what that episode had done to his reputation as a tough, streetwise kid.  He was trying to repair it as best he could, but the attempt had got him into more fights than he was comfortable with.  He wouldn’t even have minded going to the stupid party, if it wasn’t a costume party, and he could dress cool.  It would have been an opportunity to restore his image with those stupid girls, have some fun, and get some nice eats.  But there was no way.  Unless…..  He had a sudden thought.  He headed back inside. 
“Aunt?  You know, I wouldn’t mind going to the party, if I could be something really cool…”
“Oh.  Really?  With all Daphne’s friends?”
“No!  Don’t let him, aunt.  I don’t want him there.  Anyway, Amelia’s not even invited him.  She might if I asked her…but he’d have to wear his cute little yellow ballet costume, of course!”  She smirked as she saw him squirm yet again.
“Shut up, Daphne.  No aunt, I mean something like Hawkeye, or Ironman!  That would be okay.”
“Well, I don’t know.  It’s really up to Daphne…”
“No!  You can’t go, Sammy.  I know what you’re trying to do.  You’re going to be showing off to all my friends, trying to prove you’re not a sissy after all!”
“Well, I’m not a sissy!”
“Huh.  As far as they're concerned, you are.  So it’s no.”
Sammy was fuming.  He turned tail and stormed back out into the garden.
“The little bitch!  I’m gonna get my own back on her.  I am!  Somehow…”

When he finally returned, Daphne had changed into her everyday clothes, and her costume had been left upstairs in the bedroom.  But every now and then, she would dash off to check on it, and remind herself how amazing it was.  During lunch, Sammy said not a word, but Daphne made up for it, chattering away twenty to the dozen.  Afterwards, Cecily took her upstairs to the studio, and gave her a big roll of cartridge paper and some tubes of paint so she could make pictures.  Cecily said she was allowed to finger-paint if she was careful.  She left her some pieces of rag to wipe her fingers on.  She left her happily painting, and came back down to where Patricia was sitting waiting in the lounge.
“She’s making some lovely pictures, Pat.  Sammy?  Why don’t you go and join her?”
“No thanks.  I’m going back in the garden.”
“Suit yourself.  Now, Pat, what have you been up to?”

[Sandra B]

2.
Sammy slouched into the garden and lay on the grass.   He stared up at the sky, fantasising about ways he could exact revenge.  Eventually a vague idea began to form itself.  He could go and give her a fright at least.  He got to his feet.  The front door key was hanging in the kitchen.  He could hear Patricia and his aunt engaged in conversation in the lounge.  Quietly he picked it up, made his way to the front door, and let himself in.  He took off his shoes.  He crept along the corridor and up the stairs.  The door of the studio was half open.  Daphne was sitting on the floor with her back to him.  She was surrounded by tubes of paint, and was drawing pictures of animals with her finger on big pieces of paper.  He was about to spring out on her, when he noticed that one of the silver tubes was within his reach.  Burnt Sienna.  He considered hitting it with his fist, so the paint would squirt all over her.  But there would be big trouble then.  Instead he knelt down and silently retrieved it.  What could he use it for?  Then he had a stroke of genius.  He retreated from the studio door and crept into the bedroom.  Daphne’s angel costume was lying on the bed.  He didn’t hesitate.  Smearing some of the paint on one finger, he wiped it on the front of the leotard, leaving an ugly brown mark!  Perfect.  He wiped his finger on the leg of his jeans.  Now came the difficult bit.  He had to get the tube back in the studio without Daphne realising.  But it turned out to be easy.  She was on the other side of the room, tearing off a new sheet of paper.  Quickly he replaced the tube, crept back downstairs, along the corridor, and, picking up his shoes, exited, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could.  Then he slipped on his shoes and ran round to the back again.  Just in time!  Cecily appeared at the kitchen door.
“Sammy?  Are you all right out here?  Do you want anything?”
“No, thank you, aunt.  I’m fine.  Just chilling.”
“Okay.  Well then…”
But at that moment there was a piercing scream from upstairs.  Cecily turned and ran back inside.  Sammy took the opportunity to replace the door key.  He was home clear!  He sauntered into the lounge.  It was empty.  Both women were upstairs.  He could hear Daphne wailing, and Cecily sympathetically interrogating .  He strolled to the foot of the stairs.
“What’s going on?” he called.
“Nothing,” replied Patricia, “Daphne’s got some paint on her costume, that’s all.”
“I haven’t, mummy!” she screamed, “I didn’t touch it!”
“You probably didn’t realise….”
“I didn’t do it, really I didn’t,” she sobbed.  “I don’t know how it happened.  Look at my lovely costume!”  And she subsided into wailing.
Sammy smiled triumphantly to himself.  “The perfect crime,” he murmured.

Daphne was inconsolable.  Cecily reassured her they would be able to get the stain out, but in the event it proved more difficult than she had hoped, and even after several applications of white spirit it was still there, fainter, but also larger.  There was no possibility of replacing the costume, unless they went for something quite different, and eventually it was agreed Patricia would buy a big white bow and sew it over the damaged patch.  Not ideal, but it would have to do.
Sammy was now a lot more cheerful.  He sauntered about the garden with a self-satisfied grin on his face, pulling leaves off the bushes and looking for caterpillars.  His aunt came outside to join him.
“I wish you’d go and play with Daphne.  She so upset.  Cheer her up a bit.”
“Nah, I don’t think so.  She can come out here if she wants.”
“Well if you’re just going to hang around out here, you can do some gardening for me.  Is that okay by you?”  Aunt Cecily was irritated by his complacent good humour in the face of Daphne’s misfortune.  “That bush by the fence needs pruning.  Just take off all those long trailers.  Do you think you can do that?”
“Sure, aunt.  No problem.”
“Right.  I’ll get you the shears and a ladder.”
She set up the step ladder next to the bush, and handed him the shears.
“You’ll only need to go up a couple of steps.  Be careful, won’t you.  Take your time, and don’t stretch.”
“I know.  I’ve done it before.”
He climbed up two steps, and began work.  Cecily was about to turn away, when something riveted her attention.  She froze. 
“You can go.  I’m fine.  I’ll be careful, don’t worry.”
But Cecily didn’t move.  She was staring at the leg of his jeans, which was now right in front of her face.  Burnt Sienna!  For some moments she was unable to speak.  At last she found her voice.
“Come down, Sammy.  Come inside a minute.  There’s something I want to ask you.”
“What?”
“Nothing serious.  I’ve just remembered something.”
“Okay.”
He climbed down, and put the shears on the grass.  He followed her inside.  Patricia was sitting at the table.  Daphne was upstairs having a nap.  She sat down next to her friend.
“Well, aunt?  What is it?”
She didn’t answer immediately.  She looked at Patricia.  Patricia looked back, puzzled.
“What is it, Cec?”
“Sammy.  Tell me.  What’s that on your jeans?”
“What?”
“On the right leg of your jeans.  Just above the knee.”
He looked down.  Fear gripped his heart.  “I..I, it…it’s earth, aunt, from the garden, I…” he stammered.
Patricia’s mouth fell open.
“It’s paint!  It was you!  You messed up her costume.  And you let her take the blame!  How could you?”
“I…I…no, it must have come off her…I…”
“You didn’t even go upstairs.  You horrible, horrible boy!”
“No…I…”
But guilt was written all over his face.
“How on earth….” Said Cecily.  “You must have gone through the front…when we were talking in here.  You devious little…”
Sammy hung his head.  Now he felt like crying.  How could he have made such a stupid mistake?  Just like in stories…the criminal always makes one vital error…
“That’s it,” said his aunt, “you’re finished now.  Get out of here.  Yes, go back in the garden.  I have to talk to Patricia.”
He skulked out, his tail between his legs.  Now they would tell his mum, and she would go completely berserk.  He collapsed on the grass, cursing his stupidity.

He was there for a good half hour before his aunt summoned him in again.  Daphne was there with them now.  He couldn’t look her in the face.
“I have spoken to your mother, Sammy,” said Cecily.  “She’s beside herself with anger.  I have persuaded her to place the matter of punishment in our hands for the time being.  We have decided what is going to happen.  I would like to put you over my knee and give you a good spanking, but it’s not my place to do that, unfortunately.  No, we have decided that, as a first punishment, you are going to go to the costume party after all.  I’ve cleared it with Amelia’s mother.  Now Daphne has something to say to you.  So listen carefully.
“You are a hateful, horrible boy, Sammy.  You messed up the nicest costume I’ve ever had.  Aunt Cecily has said I should help choose the costume you are going to wear.”  She smiled evilly.  “And I have some ideas already.  But you won’t find out until Saturday morning.  So you have all week to wonder what it might be.  But for the rest of today, I want to play horsies, and you are going to be my horsey.  So you can go back into the garden and wait for me to find my whip.  Go on!  Shoo!”

It was a long afternoon.  The ladies sat inside, talking and laughing, occasionally glancing out of the French door to see how the gymkhana was going.  About half past four the “horsey” collapsed, and no amount of goading could persuade it to regain its feet.  So it was left in the garden while the others had supper, and sent to bed early.

[Sandra B]

3.
Sammy spent a miserable few days.  He was grounded, of course.  Not that he wanted to go out much.  His mother was furious, and hardly said a kind word to him all the week.  He sat at home, working on his school project, and worrying about Saturday.  What was that annoying little girl going to dream up for him?  Well, whatever it was, it could hardly be any worse than last time.  In fact, she would probably just make him wear the same outfit.  That would be okay.  Her friends had pretty much exhausted their curiosity as far as that was concerned.  So he began to feel a little more comfortable.  And at least he would get some more party food.

His mother sent him over to Cecily’s on Friday evening.  Of course, Patricia and Daphne were there.  Daphne seemed to have recovered fully from her mortification.  She was actually quite bright and bouncy.  The anxiety returned, gnawing at his stomach, so that he ate only a light supper.  After supper, Daphne whispered something in her mother’s ear, and they both looked in Sammy’s direction.
“Daphne thinks you should try on your costume now,” she said.  “Make sure it fits.  What do you think, Cecily?  Do you think he should?”
“I don’t see why not.  Is that what Daphne wants?”
Daphne nodded vigorously.
“All right then.  Darling, would you like to fetch it?”
She was away like a shot, running up the stairs.  Sammy felt hollow inside.  In a moment she was back, holding a big pink carrier bag.
“Sammy?” said his aunt.  “Go into my bedroom and undress.  I’ll be in in a minute.”
Sammy rose slowly from his chair and headed for the downstairs bedroom.  He was about to enter when his aunt appeared at the lounge door with a little cellophane packet in her hand.
“Here.  Undress completely, and put these on.  Catch!”  She tossed him the packet.  He caught it, went inside, and closed the door behind him.

Sammy looked at the packet.  He tore it open.  A pair of diaphanous pale pink panties, very small and lightweight, but made of some strong, nylon-like material.  He sighed.  This was not promising.  Slowly he undressed.  He hesitated a moment before stepping into the panties.  Gingerly, he pulled them up.  The material stretched so far, and no further.  Just about enough for him to squeeze himself in, and no more.  They were narrow at the back, and slipped in between the cheeks of his bottom.  What next, he wondered.  He didn’t have to wait long.  His aunt knocked quietly at the door, and let herself in.  She put the carrier down on the bed, and surveyed him with satisfaction.
“Perfect!  Don’t look so nervous, they’re just an undergarment.  Here, let’s get these on.” 
She produced from the bag a pair of flesh-coloured tights, which seem to shine slightly in the light.  She helped him into them.
“They’re virtually invisible.  They’ll just make your legs shimmer a little.  Very glamorous.”
She adjusted them until she was satisfied.  They fitted like a second skin.
“Now.  The main event.  I do hope you like it.” 
She smiled, watching his face, as she drew from the bag something mauve and shiny.
Sammy gasped.  “A swimsuit?  Why?  I don’t understand…”
“Yes!  Isn’t it pretty?  Come on, slip it on.  I want to make sure it fits.”
She held it out for him to step into.  It was made of very stretchy, satiny spandex.  She pulled it up, snapping the shoulder straps in place, and stood back to admire him.  It fitted perfectly, hugging his figure without being tight.  The neck was scooped, but not too low, and trimmed, as were the legs, with narrow white piping. 
“Turn around.  Excellent!”
The back was high, and fitted as well as the rest.  The thigh was cut just high enough to suggest a compromise between functionality and glamour.  Cecily was well satisfied.
“You can thank Daphne for choosing this.  She said it would suit you, and she was right.”
“But, aunt…”
“Sit down on the bed, please.  Next the shoes.  Your going to have to wear heels, I’m afraid.  It’s all part of the look.”
“What “look”?”
“You’ll see.”
She knelt in front of him.  She pulled his shoes out from under the bed.  Mauve leather with high heels and ankle-straps.
“The straps will keep them firmly in place.  You will probably have to practise walking in them.  I don’t suppose your used to heels, are you?” she smiled.
“I don’t get it.  What am I supposed to be?”
“Does this clarify things?”
She went back to the bag.  First, she produced a little diamond tiara, which she pushed into his hair.
“We’ll do your makeup in the morning.”
Then a pair of mauve satin opera gloves.
“Getting it?”
“No.”
“You will now.”
A yellow sash.  Printed on it, the words “Pageant Princess”!

[Andlat]

If Sammy is anything like me, he would have never even imagined that he'd be dressed as a pageant princess for the costume party. That's quite a clever, out of the box costume idea for the boy.

[Sissy Little Girl]

Sandra B, This is a great story and Sammy deserves the punishment that he is receiving.  Keep up the good work and don't worry about the naysayers.  You are a great writer.