Friday, December 29, 2017

Mister Mike - Chapter 1

The Domination of Mister Mike
By Karen Singer

Chapter 1

     I couldn’t believe I was even contemplating this.  What the hell was I doing?  This was a really bad idea!  It was so wrong!  It was so sick!  It was so….dangerous!  But the allure of it still tugged at me like the most potent drug on earth.  Was I really going to do this?  I absolutely shouldn’t! 
      But I had come this far.  Turning back now would be no problem at all.  In fact, turning back would be the best thing I could possibly do.  But as much as I wanted to turn back…as much as I knew I absolutely should turn back, somehow I still sat there, totally captivated by the temptation of what I was contemplating.  The pull, the need…the danger.  The thrill!
      What would everyone think of me? What would they say?  What would they do?  Would anyone here know me?  I certainly hoped not!  But it was now ten thirty at night and the parking lot was nearly empty.  Nearly, but not quite.  The place would be closing in another half hour.  Through the windows I could see a few other people still inside.  If I went in, would they notice?  I knew they would see me…but would they notice anything else?  I could only pray they wouldn’t.  
      I had somehow found the courage to actually leave home and try to do this.  It was now or never.  And I knew that never was the better option – by far.  But the drug.  The pull.  The…absolute need!  It still drove me to do the unthinkable.
      I took a deep breath for courage and opened my car door, my eyes still locked on the few people inside.  I left the safe confines of my car and closed the door after me, locking it out of habit.  The cold January wind assaulted me, but my mind was so occupied with what I was doing that I barely noticed.  I knew it was doubtful that anyone would notice as I approached the place, even though I had no doubt it would be a distinct possibility.  But once inside, it would be a different story…and I still prayed that I would be able to get away with it.  
      With my heart in my throat, I took a few steps toward the Arby’s Restaurant in front of me, and immediately heard the sound of my heels on the pavement.  Another give away.  But I kept going, all the way up to the side door.  I opened it, and entered.  

     I was a normal guy, dressed normally – except for one tiny thing…well, actually two major things.  But one of them I prayed was even less noticeable than the other one.  I was a normal guy, dressed normally, except for the women’s black high heeled boots on my feet.  They were the thing that I knew was most likely to be noticed.  The other thing I was, and wasn’t, as worried about, were the diapers I was wearing under my pants.  Wet diapers.  I had purposely waited to leave home until I had already wet them…and also because I wanted to get here as late as possible when there would be less of a chance of anyone being here to see me.
      I was aware of the feel of my four inch heels as I approached the counter.  Could anyone hear them other than me?  There was background noise all around me, so I hoped not.  The girl behind the counter was smiling at me as she moved toward the register.  I ignored the railings that would have led me further away from the counter before placing my order and I approached her directly.  I knew she couldn’t see my feet now, but had she seen them when I came in?  So far, it didn’t look like it.
“For here, or to go?” she asked as she pressed a button on the register.  
      “To go,” I told her.  Most definitely to go!  I wasn’t going to stick around inside there any longer than I had to.  She was looking at me now, waiting for me to place my order.  “A medium roast beef, fries, and a large drink,” I told her.
      “One number two with a large drink,” she said as she punched more buttons.  “I need a name please?”
      She punched that into the computer as well.  Was it a mistake to tell her my name?  She told me how much, I paid her in cash, got my change, then had to wait.  I moved further down toward the end of the counter, away from the cash register.  She was back a moment later though and handed me a large cup for my drink.  Oh shit!  The drink dispensers were all behind me, out where everyone would have an easier time seeing the boots on my feet.  Maybe I shouldn’t bother getting the drink.  I had only ordered a large drink because it would keep me peeing more before I went to bed later.  I didn’t really need it.  In fact, I didn’t really need any of it.  I had just needed someplace to go…somewhere where I “might” get caught.  Someplace where hopefully I stood a chance of getting away with it…without getting caught.
      The girl was back again.  “It’s going to be a few minutes on your fries,” she told me.  Then she left.  No further explanation.  
      Okay, now things were getting worse.  Should I just leave?  But I was already there.  I was already doing it.  And so far, I was pretty sure I was getting away with it.  Did I dare tempt fate and make matters worse?  
      The girl behind the counter was off doing something.  The other people eating inside weren’t paying any attention to me.  I “casually” wandered over and filled my big cup with Coke, not bothering with any ice because it would take longer.  I stood there and put a lid on it like there was nothing wrong with me at all, and I grabbed a straw and stuck it in the cup.  I took a sip, and wandered back to the counter, trying to keep my footsteps as silent as possible.  I dared not look back at any of the other people in there for fear that they might have seen my boots.  The girl was back, but she wasn’t paying attention to me.  Perfect!  I had done it!  I hoped.  I was still there, and so far nobody had said a single word about my footwear or given me any strange looks, so I was considering myself safe – so far.
      And then the door opened and a woman walked in.  And my insides went into panic mode.  Not only was it another customer who might see my boots, it was the girl that lived in the house next door to me.  Actually, she was a young woman, not a girl.  But I knew she hadn’t been out of school more than a few years.  As my insides screamed, I watched as she paused just inside the door, and I saw her surprise as she noticed me.  I saw her smile briefly before she approached.  I mentally willed her not to look down toward my feet.  I wanted her to keep looking at my face. 
      “Hi Mister Mike,” she said as she walked up next to me.  
      “Hi Ashley,” I replied.  “Just getting off work?”  I knew she worked as a low-level nurse at the city hospital.  
      “Yeah.  Now I’m starving!  I didn’t get a chance to get dinner earlier.”  
      I kept my eyes on her as she went over to the register and ordered her food.  Then she was back.  “How’s Chris?” I asked, referring to her boyfriend who she lived with.  
      “Being a butt-face as usual,” she replied with more than a hint of frustration.  
      The girl behind the counter came up and handed her a cup, and she headed for the drink dispenser.  I turned to see if my order was ready yet, hoping I could duck out of there quickly before she could come back.  But I still didn’t see any sign of any of it.  Now what should I do?  Leave while her back was to me?  I was sorely tempted to do just that.  But somehow my feet in those high heeled boots stayed rooted to the spot where I stood.  My panic growing, I watched as she filled her drink, put a lid on it, stuck a straw in it, took a quick drink, grabbed a pile of napkins, and then turned and walk back to me.  Don’t…look…down!  But I saw her sipping her drink as she walked back to the counter to wait next to me.  Did she see?  What would I do if she said anything?  
      “You know what Mister Butt-face want’s now?” she said after taking another drink.  
      Had she somehow not seen my boots?  I didn’t see how it was possible, but I was still hoping.  “What?” I asked, nearly choking on that single word.
      “He wants me to pay the entire electric bill.  He knows I don’t make that much money.  He knows I can’t afford it.  But he’s still insisting I pay it!”
      “Has he been paying it so far?” I asked, remembering that she and her boyfriend had only been renting the little house next to me for about four or five months now.  
      “We’ve been halving it,” she told me.  
      “And doesn’t he have a pretty good job?” I asked.  “He was bragging about how much money he makes now the last time you two were over.”
     “Yeah, he makes plenty of money!” she replied, her anger over the issue seeming to grow. 
     “So what’s his problem?”
     “He’s still complaining that he has to fork out most of the expenses.  And now he wants to buy himself a new truck, and he’s worried about paying for it.”
     “I thought he had a nice truck now.  Why does he want a new one?”
     “Because he does.  That’s all.  He thinks he needs it.  Damn it.  I need a new car more than he needs another truck.  Things keep falling apart on my car all the time.”
     “But he wants you to contribute more to your relationship.”
     “Exactly!  The butt-face!  I can barely afford my own car insurance, let alone much else.”
I didn’t bother asking if she had discussed it with him.  I’d stood in my back porch more often than I can count and heard the two of them arguing next door.  I could never understand why they continued to live together.  “So what are you going to do?”
     “Who knows?  Sometimes I could just kill the bastard!”
     All of a sudden a bag was set down on the counter next to me.  We both turned.  It was the dinner I had ordered.  I opened the bag to check the contents, then closed it again. 
     “See you,” she said.
     “Yeah.  Take care,” I replied.
     Now what was I going to do?  If I walked out of there, she’d see the high heels on my boots for sure.  And even if I waited for her to leave with me, I still could see no way that she could ever miss them.  Besides, they were noisy, and she was wearing sneakers.  Why had I done this?
     Knowing there was no good choice, and knowing that I now had to leave, I picked up my bag. 
     “Oh…” she said in a whisper as she bumped my arm.  “Nice boots you’re wearing.”  And then to make matters worse, she giggled.
     I was in shock!  I know my face was turning crimson.  I turned and hurried out the door to the sound of her laughing behind me and my heels making all too much noise for any kind of comfort.  I hurried all the way out to my car and got in.  I looked back inside as I started the engine.  I could see her just now getting her food.  I left as quickly as I could. 
     Why…oh why…had I done this?  Now I was in trouble.  Now she’d probably spread the word about me all over the neighborhood…and most likely beyond.  What was I going to do?
I drove straight home, my stomach in more of a knot than when I had left my house.  I pushed the button to automatically raise the garage door on the side of my house, and pulled right in.  I pressed the button again to close it before I dared get out of my car.  I carried the food I didn’t really need into the house. 
     Why did I have to do it?  Why had I been so absolutely stupid?  What was wrong with me…besides the fact that I was sick in the head?  And now someone else knew.  My next door neighbor in fact.  A pretty young woman…with an awfully big mouth!  And that didn’t even count her boyfriend who I had no doubt she would tell just as soon as she got home…probably about now.  What was I going to do?
     I walked around the inside of my house in a panic.  Still somehow enjoying the feel of those high heeled boots on my feet.  I could feel the damp bulk of my diapers under my pants pressing against my legs.  I was enjoying it all…and contemplating removing it all right away.  What if one of them suddenly knocked on the door?  It was late at night, but I had a feeling that wouldn’t stop them.  Either of them! 
     In the end, all the walking around I did in those heels calmed me down…some.  I decided to stay as I was and hope neither of them would come over.  Besides, it had been a while now.  If they were coming, they’d most likely be here long before now.
     I went back to the kitchen and ate the roast beef sandwich I had just bought, even though I didn’t need it.  And I drank that large sized Coke as well – all of it!  Then I went back to my bedroom and removed all my clothes down to just the two layers of disposable diapers I had wet before I left the house.  From my bottom drawer, I moved aside a couple of sweatshirts and pulled out my nightgown and put it on.  Smooth and silky and sensuous.  And I went to bed…already needing to pee. 
With all the Coke I had drank, I knew it was going to be a long night, and I was right.  I was awake, peeing in my diapers about half a dozen times, each time flooding them and making them far worse than they already were.  But the one thing that really kept me awake, was worrying about what would happen now.  What would happen now that Ashley knew, and most likely Chris, her boyfriend.  How was I going to handle it? 
     Why had I done it?  Why had I been so stupid?  Why did I have to be so…sick?
     I woke up the next morning to a horribly pee soaked bed.  This batch of diapers I had bought wasn’t exactly the best.  It’s a good thing my mattress was well protected.

Thursday, December 28, 2017

A Comment About the Comments

It’s come to my attention that people are having trouble posting comments to my blog.  I’m sorry about that.  I think the problem is that I’ve always kept the settings for the comments so that I have to see and approve them before they get posted.  Evidently this is confusing people when they get the notification about that.

I try to stay on top of any and all comments, although since I get so few that’s not exactly difficult.  I allow any and all criticism, even the few that hate what I write.  What I don’t allow is spam or anything that I think might link to somewhere unsafe…and I’m an IT guy so I look into most links that people try to post to the comments before I allow them.

BUT…since people have mentioned the difficulty they are having with posting comments, I’m going to try opening the settings for them up and I’ll just have to make sure I keep looking at everything that gets posted.  Trust me, I really do want to read any comments you may have! 

So…I THINK I’ve got my comment settings set so that they will now show up without me moderating them.  Someone try it and we’ll see.

So with that said, “The Domination of Michael” starts tomorrow.  And yes Rachael Bell, you better have plenty of that diaper rash cream ready.