Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ï>¿The Village Underground Sex Show by Subtext

   Stacy shows Bobby what humiliation is really all about.

   When Bobby saw Stacy again after almost ten years, he didn't have much
trouble recognizing her.  She still had the same girlish face and wore her
brown hair in braided ponytails just as before.  He felt a thrill shoot
through him as he remembered her days in the old neighborhood.  She had
lived just down the street from him and could always be seen in front of
her house playing kick ball or chasing after her little brother.  She had
loads of energy and he would always be amazed to watch her do her little
performances of Olivia Newton-John or Cher on the retaining wall in front
of her house.  He recalled that some people even considered her to be a
little strange because she seemed so desperate for attention.

   The incident that came back immediately to him was the time she carried
her seven-year old brother around the neighborhood in just his tightie
whities.  The poor kid was screaming bloody murder and kicking the whole
time, but she just kept holding him up and teasing him with baby talk as
they went.  Everyone on the block witnessed this and Stacy seemed to love
that.  She just kept walking him back and forth as she chided him.

   "Is the little baby happy now?" she said, "Are you ready to go and get
your poopy diaper changed?"

   After that she carried the little brat back into the house and he
remembered standing there imagining her laying him out like a baby on the
floor and changing him.  He recalled being filled with a certain excitement
he wasn't sure he knew how to deal with at the time.  He soon realized that
he wished it was he himself she was giving this treatment to.  He
understood this was a strange wish to have and he wondered if that made him
abnormal in some way.  But perhaps Stacy was abnormal, too?  Perhaps she
had the same feelings about it?  But he was never able to approach her with
that subject back then because just the thought of it made his face flush
with hot blood and embarrassment.

   And now here she was, a full-fledged woman standing just ten feet away!
He wondered if she'd remember him.  He approached her cautiously, waited
for her to make eye contact, and then extended his hand.

   "Hi, you're Stacy Haberstein, aren't you!" he said.

   Her eyes searched his face quickly and then widened with recognition.

   "Oh my god!  Bobby Flannigan!" she exclaimed, "What are you doing here!"

   "Waiting here for the latest nerdy product just like the rest of us tech
slaves!" he replied.

   "Wow!  I never see anybody from the neighborhood anymore!" she chimed.

   "Me neither!"

   "So how are you?  Married with kids?" she inquired.

   "Nah, never got around to it.  You?"

   She proudly held up her left hand which was adorned with a gold band.

   "One year this October!" she announced.

   "Wow!  Congratulations!"

   "Thanks."

   Bobby felt a wave of disappointment move over him and he was suddenly
overcome with a sense of awkwardness.

   "We sure did have some fun back then!" Stacy continued after a short
silence.

   "Yeah, I remember you singing Half Breed for us with that long, black
wig on!"

   "Oh god!  Do you know my family still makes me perform that song every
Thanksgiving!  It's crazy!"

   Bobby laughed and was glad to hear this.  It was a sign she hadn't
changed all that much.

   "And I remember you used to always have to chase your little brother
around!" he continued.

   "Oh, I used to beat his backside day and night...!" she replied,
grinning.

   Bobby imagined this quite clearly as a surge of adrenaline coursed
through him.  It lingered in his stomach and tickled for a while.

   "...but now little Stevie is six foot two so I can't do that anymore!"
she said with mock disappointment.

   After this the conversation devolved into small talk and they exchanged
phone numbers before parting ways.  For days afterward Bobby tried to think
of an excuse to call her that wouldn't sound like a move.  But in the end
he decided to let it go and entertain himself with the new fantasies she
had inspired in him.  That is, until the day some six months later when he
got a call from her.

   "Hey Bobby, we're having a party this Saturday and we were wondering if
you'd like to come by?"

   "Sure!" he replied in happy surprise.

   Her address turned out to be in New Jersey, but he didn't mind the
commute from the city.  When he arrived he saw that she lived in a cute
little split level home in a nice little suburb of North Bergen.  Her
husband however turned out to be a "not so little" working class type who
had hands like sandpaper sausages.

   "Hey pal!  Come on in!" the husband greeted as he applied his grip
firmly.

   "Hey Bobby!" Stacy gushed when she saw him, "Where's your date?"

   He suddenly felt somewhat stupid.  Why had he come alone?

   "She's got school." Was the only lie he could come up with.

   "Aww, and you came anyway!" she exclaimed sympathetically, "That's
sweet!"

   She put her arm around him and walked him into the kitchen.  Then she
took a beer out of the fridge and handed it to him.

   "Here's something to start you off!"

   He followed her into the backyard next and noticed she had filled out
nicely since high school.  Her hips were wider and two distinct dimples
showed between her shorts and her tank top.  Her mother and father and
Stevie were out there eating barbecue and some other couples he didn't
know.

   "Mom, you remember Bobby Flannigan, don't you?" Stacy queried.

   "Oh yeah!  Hi Bobby!  How's your mom?" Mrs.  Haberstein asked.

   "She's fine."

   "Oh good!  Tell her I said 'Hi'!"

   Stacy kindly steered him over to the other guests after this and made
the introductions.  The people seemed like mostly artsy city types.  One
woman had a nose piercing and another guy had purple hair.  Yes, this made
sense, he thought.  Stacy had always wanted to be an entertainer.  These
would be her people.

   "So what do you do now, Stacy?" he asked to ease his curiosity.

   "I work for an insurance company, but I do theater on the weekends, in
the village."

   "Oh wow!  Like what?"

   "Performance art, mostly improv stuff."

   "That's so cool!"

   He mentioned then that he was a writer, though what he wrote was mostly
ad copy.  He thought that would give him an excuse to go see her show in
the village.  She talked intensely after that about her performance troupe
and their plays which sounded pretty pretentious to him.  Their shows were
full of strange metaphors and weird costumes, like a guy dressed as a
condom to symbolize male chauvinism.  But then it struck him that this too
made perfect sense.  That was what she had done as a kid out on the stage
in front of her house all those years ago!  It was all performance art! 
That's when he got an idea.

   "Do you remember the time you paraded your brother around the
neighborhood in his underwear?" he asked, as if the thought had just popped
into his mind.

   Her face was blank for a moment.  Then it slowly returned to her.

   "Oh right!  Wow!  You remember that?!" she said incredulously.

   "Sure.  How many times do you see a sight like that!" he replied
laughing.

   "Yeah, I guess you're right." She said with a sly look.

   "Do you remember how everyone in the neighborhood went crazy?!"

   "Of course, they all knew about my wild shenanigans!"

   "It's funny the things we never forget.  But I thought that was so
creative!" He continued.

   "Really?  How?"

   "Well.  I know you were only trying to teach him a lesson, but it seemed
like you were putting on a show for us all."

   "Oh really?  Like a domination show...?" she wondered.

   He saw her face go into happy deep thought.

   "...you mean, do that to someone on stage?"

   "Yes!  It can be a sort of lampoon of all that psychology stuff!"

   She continued to mull it around in her head for a moment.

   "I like it!" she suddenly blurted, "It can be about the woman taking
back the power!"

   "Sure!" Bobby replied, as he saw he had guided her right to the idea
behind all his fantasies.

   They made a plan then and there to meet the following weekend at the
theater to hash out this new performance idea.  As Bobby left the party
Stacy kissed him on the cheek.

   "See you in a week, Dr.  Freud!" she called out as he walked toward the
street.

   A week later, at the theater in Greenwich Village, he met all her actor
friends and watched their improvisation act.  Much of it was quite
risquÃ(C).  There was simulated sex and hints of sado-masochism throughout.
Afterwards, when the lights were down and most of the others had left,
Stacy appeared and sat next to him.

   "Do you have anything written down yet?" she asked.

   "You bet!" He replied, producing a typed sheet from his breast pocket.
"Hope it meets your standards."

   She unfolded it and looked it over and saw that it was a replay of what
she had done to her brother years earlier.

   "Hmmm, let's give this a dry run." she said as she looked around the
theater and spied a man chatting with a woman in the wings.

   "Hey Chris!  Let's do a quick scene!" she called.

   As Chris emerged Bobby saw that he was a slightly built guy with
feminine features.  He and Stacy met at center stage and talked briefly. 
Then she took his hand and led him forward.

   "Ladies and gentlemen, we wish to ask your indulgence.  We will now
explore a side of the theater never before attempted." She began.

   They turned and faced one another.

   "I am a woman and therefore I am stronger!" she stated to the guy, "I
raise the children and carry them on my hip."

   With this she grabbed the actor and hoisted him up, amazingly, onto her
hip.  She turned and faced front again with the guy slung from her body
somewhat limply.  Then the guy spoke.

   "I am man and therefore I suck from nipples!" He stated before putting
his thumb in his mouth.

   Bobby looked on dumbstruck.  None of this was what he had written.  The
actor was far too pleased with his situation.  Then Stacy spoke again.

   "I only let him down when I decide!" she asserted before walking around
in a big circle.

   The guy started to fuss and cry, but it was in a badly acted, mocking
way.  Bobby firmly believed at that point they were making fun of him.  He
got up red-faced and stormed out.

   "Bobby!  Wait!" Stacy called out after him, "Where are you going?!"

   By the time he got home that night he saw Stacy had left three or four
messages on his phone, but he couldn't shake his feelings of embarrassment
and anger.  In one of the messages she apologized, but explained that
improvisation was a big part of their act.  She went on to say how much his
idea had inspired her.

   "Call me, Bobby!  We need to work on this!" was how the message ended.

   With this Bobby fell back onto his couch and closed his eyes.

   "What a fuck up I am!" he said to himself.

   He sat there thinking of the scene after that.  How she had so easily
picked that actor up and carried him around!  He rubbed his scrotum as this
thought ruminated in his mind.  The next day he called her and they met at
a restaurant in Manhattan.

   "I think the problem is that actors always want to act and that kills
the reality and immediacy of the scene." She admitted to him.

   "Exactly!" He agreed.

   "What we need are volunteers!"

   "Volunteers?  From the audience?" he posited.

   "No, the people in the audience would be too guarded.  We need honesty.
Complete honesty." She insisted.

   "So where do we find honest volunteers?"

   "I was thinking...  maybe college students, preferably Psych or Social
Science majors!  Something like that!"

   "Hmm, so they would be given just a general idea of the scene before
coming in?"

   "Right!  We can start with women."

   "But what about the male/female dynamic?"

   "I don't think it's necessary because this is really a study in maternal
power." She continued.

   "Okay."

   Bobby realized then that Stacy understood the central idea.  She was the
omnipotent mother in this scenario with her full hips and commanding
demeanor and the people who came on stage would all be transformed by her
into her "little ones".

   By the following week they had enlisted two college students from NYU.
One was a Goth girl with a very subdued personality and the other was a
long-haired hippie chic who they suspected was high when she came in.  They
decided the two volunteers would be brought up from the audience to draw
the others into the realism.

   The show was staged just days later.  Bobby was in the audience when
Stacy walked out that night and stopped in front of a banner that read:
Mommy Issues.  She was dressed like a 1950's housewife with the compliment
of yellow Playtex gloves.  She assumed an open stance with her hands on her
hips when she reached center stage.

   "It has come to my attention that there are some people in this theater
who need training!  Am I correct?!  "Stacy announced as she scanned the
audience.

   The audience members all gave each other nervous looks and Bobby's heart
palpitated.

   "Can I get a volunteer for training?" she asked.

   The hippie girl reluctantly raised her hand and smiled goofily.

   "Come up here, my girl!" Stacy instructed.

   The skinny girl made her way to the stage in cut-off jeans, a tube top
and clogs.  She stumbled slightly on her way up the stairs.

   "Careful, Sweetheart." Stacy cautioned.

   The girl walked to Stacy with her back to the audience and stopped. 
Stacy gripped her shoulder and turned her around.

   "Please state your name for these fine people."

   "Agatha." The girl announced with an awkward smile.

   "Very well, Agatha.  What are your mommy issues?"

   The girl blushed deeply.

   "I was never allowed to...  touch myself." She confessed.

   "I see.  And what did your mother do when she caught you touching
yourself?"

   The young woman shifted nervously in place.

   "She washed my hands until I cried."

   "I see.  Show me how you were touching yourself."

   Agatha seemed surprised by this directive.

   "Right here?!"

   "Yes!"

   The young woman haltingly let her right hand wonder to a place over the
crotch of her shorts.  Stacy looked on with stern disapproval.

   "Show us what you were really touching!" she ordered as she reached
around and unbuttoned the girl's jeans with her rubber encased hands.

   The girl stood there stunned momentarily.  Then she began to unzip her
jeans and guide her hand down into them.  A sickened expression came over
her face as her hand delved into the humidity of her panties.

   "Put the finger in!" Stacy ordered.

   The girl was shaking and lost in shame now.

   "Is it in?"

   The girl managed a nod.

   "Then keep going!"

   Agatha's face became stranger now as the audience sat in rapt
fascination.  She angled her head up as old emotions broke over her.

   "Ahhhhh!" she cried out suddenly in a sort of cathartic release.

   "How does that dirty hand feel?!" Stacy continued.

   "Good!" she blurted as a satisfied smile came over her face.

   "Do you know how filthy you are, you nasty girl?!" Stacy interjected
with all the condemnation of a 1950's television mom.

   "Yes!"

   Agatha was completely self-involved now with her eyes shut and the
audience all but removed from her consciousness.  Stacy walked to the
forestage and pointed her finger back at her.

   "So this is what you do in your room all day, you horrible creature!"

   "Yes!" Agatha replied as tension stiffened her frame.

   "You stick your finger in the hole I told you never to go near!"

   "Yes!" she said again as she continued to work away on herself.

   A quivering began in her.

   "And this is why your panties have to be washed with extra soap!" Stacy
badgered once again.

   Agatha doubled over then in a rumbling climax.

   "Ohhh!" she cried out.

   She fell to her knees in a shaky mass and then leaned back onto her free
hand, her face beaming.  Stacy, to the audience's surprise, went to her and
pulled the diddling hand out of her jeans.  Then she held it aloft.

   "Here is the filthy instrument!" she exclaimed, separating the
glistening middle finger from the others.

   Agatha only sat there and smiled and then began to laugh joyfully.  The
audience rose from their seats all at once and let out roars of approval
and loud applause.  The catharsis seemed to be theirs as well.

   After the show however, Bobby was still dissatisfied.  He sat in the
front after everyone had gone and brooded.  Something was missing.  Stacy
walked out from behind the stage and joined him.

   "Great show." He told her.

   "Thanks to you!"

   "Did she actually cum?"

   "Wet fingers don't lie."

   "I guess not." He said sullenly.

   "What is it?"

   "I'm not sure." He replied, rubbing his neck.

   Stacy sensed something then.

   "Let's do a scene." She suggested.

   "What kind of scene?"

   "A lift scene."

   "But I weigh one eighty!"

   "I can do it." She stated in a matter of fact way.

   Bobby felt that adrenaline surge again and the tickling in his stomach.
Could she really lift him?  He got up slowly and felt flushed and nervous.
Stacy went onto the stage and started reading.

   "Is my big boy happy he's got his diaper on?" she started in a pouty,
almost mocking, voice.

   Bobby instantly felt a weakness move through his legs as he climbed up
the stage stairs.  It took a while but he finally walked over to where she
was standing.  She stopped reading and looked him over quickly as if sizing
him up, then she squatted down and lifted him, wrapping her arms around his
upper legs.  It seemed to catch him off guard.

   "Wait!" he called out as he looked around nervously from his new
elevated position.

   "What's wrong?" she asked sarcastically, "Is the diaper boy shy?"

   "No, it's just...  I wasn't ready." He replied weakly.

   It was clear from the redness of her face that she was straining to keep
him up, but she only seemed concentrated on him.

   "How do you feel now?" she asked him.

   "Ah, a little embarrassed."

   "Okay.  What else?"

   "I don't know."

   "Yes you do." She insisted.

   "Okay...  I feel...  smaller."

   "Yes.  And..."

   "I don't know!  I'm not an actor!"

   "Sure you are." She corrected, "But I'm not looking for an actor.  Now,
I want you to process your feelings."

   He allowed his hands to come to rest on her shoulders as his face became
flustered with shame.

   "How?!" he asked as he continued to look around in discomfort.

   "Just express your feelings." She told him, "Do you want to kick and
scream?  Or just let me carry you with no resistance?  You decide."

   "I don't know!"

   "I'm hearing anger in your voice." She reported quite calmly.

   "I'm not angry!"

   "No?  Okay then, do you want to try this with the diaper on?"

   "God no!"

   "Are you sure?" she asked him with a rising intonation as if he were a
child.

   "Yes!  I'm sure!  Now can you put me down!" he commanded.

   "Not until you show me how you're really feeling!"

   "Damn it!  I don't want to do this anymore!" he yelled as he tried to
push free of her arm lock.

   "But this was your idea!  You're the writer!  How can you write anything
honest if you don't feel it?"

   "Okay, I get it."

   "So do you know how my brother felt now?" she pressed.

   "Yes!"

   "Okay, so now imagine there's an audience out there and all you have on
is a diaper."

   "Come on!"

   "Who knows, there may be people watching right now."

   He looked toward the seats and saw they were mostly obscured in
darkness.

   "Would you just let me fucking down!" he yelled, his voice echoing
through the empty theater.

   She smiled up at him and slowly let him slip out of her grip until his
feet reached the floor.  His anger stayed with him as he made his way back
to a seat.  He sat there and looked at the ground with his hands folded in
front of him.

   "Now you know what we do here." She announced.

   She went down the steps and then walked up to his seat.  She put the
script down on the chair next to him and put her hand on his head.

   "Now go home and rewrite this scene with the emotions you have in you
right here." She instructed.

   Bobby didn't look up.  He only sat there in silence as she left.  He
realized then that he was pouting.  Stacy was different in this place.  She
was much more assertive, which was the trait he had imagined in her, but
then why was he surprised that she had made a fool out of him?  Perhaps he
was a fool.  Because he hadn't realized the basic difference between being
humiliated and watching it happen to someone else!  He had only seen this
whole thing from the perspective of the onlooker.  The person watching
could get a voyeuristic thrill and even try to mentally project themselves
into the victim's situation, but that's not the actual experience.  He
understood then that if Stacy had carried him down the street in a diaper
today it would have been the most agonizing experience of his life!  So it
seemed the fantasy he had entertained all these years had fallen flat in
the harsh light of reality.  For a moment he regretted even trying to
recreate this ridiculous wet dream of his, but then it dawned on him that
as the writer, he could still script Stacy into doing anything he wanted.
He pondered this for a while as his manly ego slowly regained its puffed up
shape.

   The next week marked the last show of the season and Bobby came up with
an idea that would challenge all of them.  He handed the script to Stacy
with a few days to spare.  It called for everyone in the audience to wear a
diaper for the show and no other clothes below the waist.  Stacy would then
tell a story about a member who had not followed directions and because of
that would be forced to have his or her diaper changed on stage.  She would
then roam amongst the audience and make those present believe they would be
chosen until finally leading the Goth girl onto the stage.  The rehearsal
went well the following day as Stacy was easily able to carry the Goth girl
around after pretending to change her.  The darkly mascaraed girl even
seemed excited by the prospect of being the center of a kink show.

   "This is sooo wicked!" she exclaimed repeatedly.

   The night of the show Bobby put on his diaper with the rest of them and
filed in.  The lights went down, and Stacy appeared from the wings and
stood as a silhouette at center stage.  Her voice brought them all to
attention.

   "I am woman, and I am not one to be trifled with!" she announced.

   The lights came up and there she stood in a bikini that put her wide
thighs and chunky ass on full display.  Her stomach only bulged slightly,
and her upper body exhibited a real athleticism.  Bobby felt a pulse of
adrenaline shoot up into his throat and form a knot as Stacy's leg muscles
flexed.

   "But I feel disrespected now by a certain member of this audience who...
whether they know it or not...  is thinking that they run the show!" she
continued.

   She walked to the edge of the stage and scanned the crowd.  Bobby could
only look on in amazement like the rest of them.  He hadn't known what she
was going to wear.  She paced back and forth like a jungle cat.

   "This person," she continued, "wants to control this theater for their
own sexual gains!"

   Bobby didn't recall this line being in the script, but his prick was
starting to get hard envisioning Goth girl being toted around by Stacy in
this angry mood she was in.

   "This person is one of those voyeurs who gets off on watching others get
humiliated!"

   Most of the people in the audience were sure she was talking about them
now.  Bobby just laughed and kept his eyes locked on her.  She stepped down
from the stage and started down the center aisle.

   "But its time for this character to be held accountable!" she
proclaimed.

   Bobby's cock was fully erect now in his adult diaper.  He felt it with
his hand through the crinkly plastic.  Stacy would soon have Goth girl in
her custody!

   "This man thinks he can hide..." she said then as she made her way
behind the back seats.

   Man?  Who was that?  He saw her eyes fix on him then!

   "Ah!  There he is!" she said brightly.

   She arrived at his row and started making her way to his seat.  Bobby
looked around to the people on each side of him in panic.  She arrived and
pulled him up by the wrist.

   "Wait!  What are you doing?"

   "Come with me, Booby!"

   "This is just a joke!" he blurted, "Right?"

   He smiled as he was led by her up onto the stage wearing nothing but the
diaper and a concert shirt.  It seemed he was the prisoner now.

   "How many of you want to see him get spanked?" she asked them once they
were before them.

   Hoots and shouts came up.

   "Okay, but first we need to get this diaper off!" she insisted.

   The audience shouted their approval again.

   Still holding him by the arm, she turned and playfully pulled down on
the front of the diaper.  Bobby flinched and stepped back.  She hugged him
then, wrapping him in her arms with a big, warm smile.  She moved to the
back of him after this and tugged the diaper down from behind as he fought
to keep it on.  His penis sprang up and bounced in a completely shrunken
condition as the diaper fell to his ankles.  She reached around and boinged
it with her finger a couple times and then squeezed one of his ass cheeks.
Bobby smiled weirdly as he was completely seized by a kind of dreamlike
paralysis, as if his limbs were mired in quicksand.  Then a man walked on
stage with a chair and placed it behind them.  Stacy guided Bobby to it and
sat down with him on her lap.  She held him secure with one arm around his
midsection as she pinched at his nose.

   "How does it feel to be the little brother?" she asked him.

   The audience was enthralled by this femdom spectacle and leaned forward
in their seats.

   "Please don't!" Bobby whimpered as he tried lamely to swat her hand away
from his face.

   "But this was what you wanted, wasn't it?" She taunted.

   She maneuvered him to a position face down across her knees then with
such ease that Bobby was startled.  Her hand came to rest on his buttocks
and delved into the crack.

   "So, tell me, little brother.  What are you sorry for?" she pressed.

   Bobby's face went deeply crimson.

   "Are you sorry you came here tonight?" she asked as her hand came up and
delivered the first SWACK to his pale posterior.

   With this blow, Bobby's flacid prick trembled against the side of
Stacy's fat dimpled thigh, but he still seemed unable or unwilling to
speak. He braced himself with one hand on the stage and the other on her
calf.

   "Were you hoping to watch someone else get embarrassed so you could get
off?" she accused.

   She spanked him again even harder this time which only made him emit a
low groan.

   "Still nothing to say?!"

   She snapped her fingers in the air and the man came on stage again with
a 9-inch vibrator.  He handed it to her and she showed it to the audience
before sliding her tongue along the length of it.  Shouts rang out from the
crowd then.

   "Yeah!" a man called out.

   "Do it!" a woman blurted.

   She guided the vibrator to his ass and worked it back and forth for a
while.  Bobby let out another long groan.

   "Do you feel that, little brother?  This is going to be even worse than
you imagined!" she boasted.

   She pushed the tool into his anus then.

   "No!" he cried out weakly.

   "Oh boy!  That has to feel weird!" she continued to narrate.

   There was a continuous murmur from the audience now.  Some were gasping,
others were squealing in delight.  Many had their hands busy in their
diapers.

   "Is it as fun as you thought, being the little brother?" she prodded
sarcastically.

   She started penetrating him with a steady rhythm then.  Bobby only
continued to lay across her legs limply as a few people in the audience
began to climax apparently.

   "Do you hear them having all the fun, Booby?" she teased.

   She called the man back onto the stage again after this.

   "Put his diaper back on!" she directed.

   The man picked up Bobby's diaper and guided it back over his feet and up
his legs.  Stacy pulled it up the rest of the way until it covered his ass
again with the vibrator still inserted.  She hauled him up to her lap again
facing the audience like a ventriloquist's dummy and balanced him atop one
thigh.

   "How's that feel?" she asked him as she hugged his stomach with one arm.
With her free hand she started playing with his face again, slapping at his
cheeks, pinching his chin.

   In this position, with her solid thigh between his legs and the diaper
keeping the vibrator from retreating, she was in complete control.  The toy
continued to pulse and press up into him without a break.  As for his face,
it appeared to belong to a man who was intoxicated.  His eyes were half
shut and his mouth hung partially open.  She began to bounce him on her leg
after this.

   "Here we go, Booby!  How's my little Booby?" she sang.

   Audience members who were complete strangers began touching each other
in the seats now, but none of them took their eyes off the stage,
especially when Stacy pushed her hand down into Bobby's diaper!

   "Grab that cock!" one man shouted.

   But inside Bobby's diaper Stacy was only greeted with limpness.  She
foraged around and finally found his tiny gland and slid her two fingers
over it until some precum leaked out.  In the meantime, Bobby could only
emit halting breaths as the vibrator was pushed firmly into his prostate
and jiggled up and back by her bouncing leg.  He was nothing but a
plaything now, a seduced performer in a game he had never fully understood.

   "What's with little Booby's dickie?" she asked.

   But her steady stroking of his tiny gland and the rhythmic intrusions
into his prostate soon took their toll and he became to feel a flood rising
in him like a gusher.  He turned and looked at her pretty, brown-eyed face
as he heard sounds well up in his throat that he didn't recognize.  She
read his expression and nodded.

   "Okay, is the little man ready?" she asked, "Yeah?"

   The tickling started then, and his body convulsed in waves that rose
from his ass and jolted through his torso.  He became spastic in her lap
and almost seemed to go into seizure.  The pleasure surges lasted a full
minute as the audience went completely silent.  Stacy's hand in his diaper
received very little semen and she withdrew it almost without a trace.  She
held it up for the audience and then let him slide off her lap to the
floor. The entire place erupted in applause as she walked to the forestage
holding up her hand in triumph.  People left their seats and pushed up to
the stage.  It was the best show they had ever been a part of.  Bobby
continued to lay where he had been dumped, still pulsing and tickling ever
so slightly.  But when Stacy turned back and dragged Bobby off stage by his
leg, the place shook with appreciation.  It was the best stage exit they
had ever seen!

   "I am woman!  And I am not one to be trifled with!" she shouted as she
disappeared behind the curtain.

   After he was deposited backstage and Stacy left to take her bows, he
struggled to stand.  He wanted to stay up and get his strength back and
perhaps slap her or kiss her.  He wasn't sure which.  He even tried to do
just that but collapsed and slid down her legs to the floor when she
reappeared after the encore.  On his way down he even drooled on one of her
powerful thighs.

   As she stood over him, he looked up at the power center of her hips,
bulging ass and belly and wondered why she had turned on him.  He realized
then he could never have had her.  It had all been a dream.  Only the
audience would have her that night as he had all those years prior, in his
mind.

   After his diaper was made snug by her, she helped him off stage and to
the back door.

   "Thanks Bobby, but we won't be needing a writer anymore.  It just ruins
the spontaneity." She told him before slamming the door behind her.

   He found a blanket to wrap around himself and started walking after
this, knowing he was just another victim of unrequited lust and underground
theater.  But what a show it had been!