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From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: RP Estragon's Aunt Paula 1/5 femdom
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A RP in deserved appreciation of the author, who is not the reposter (me).
Estragon can be reached through RGT@well.com (comment welcome, but no
requests for missing parts please).  His stories are all archived courtesy 
of Mule at http://www.tpe.com/ÿ7EMule


Travels with Aunt Paula by Estragon was originally posted in six parts, 
each with an epigraph.  I am preserving all of the original headnotes, 
but this reposting is in *five* parts, this one 1/5.








Travels With Aunt Paula  I/6 


(for adults only
copyright 1996, Estragon Productions)


"The captive bands may chain the hands,
	But Love enslaves the man...."



Cal was late and it wasn't like him and he didn't want Aunt Paula to be 
mad. It was Tuesday too, his lesson-day, and Paula had promised that 
today's would be important. He was already apologizing to her as he came 
through the door.

"It's okay, honey," his aunt said. "No harm done. Today's a biggie, though."

As he unbuttoned his shirt, still catching his breath, Cal realized that 
Paula was dressed up in what she liked to call her feminine best. Short 
black dress, nylons and heels, make-up, ear-rings. Her long dark hair was 
radiant and she smelled citrus-like and sweet. Cal knew that she was 
staying home with him, but this was certainly the costume for an evening 
out. He laid his shirt over a chair and quickly undid his belt. In his 
haste he was fumbling a bit. But Aunt Paula didn't seem impatient at all. 
She nestled in her chair, relaxed and beautiful. She pronounced his name 
gaily several times as she watched him struggle to pull his jeans off 
over his shoes. He was still used to the baggier clothes of a younger 
boy. But Cal had recently turned ten. His jeans lay at his ankles as he 
bent to unlace his shoes. Aunt Paula was enjoying his balancing act, 
which was taking many minutes. He looked boyishly clumsy and adorable, 
she thought, with buttocks high in the air, stretching his white briefs, 
as he stumbled about. 

When the job was done, Cal stood up proudly and faced his aunt with 
exaggerated triumph and the burlesque suavity of a magician. She laughed 
at the stiff little bow he gave her, and at the theatrical way he rose up 
on his toes and flung out his arms. Then, in one curt movement, before 
Paula was quite done laughing, Cal snapped his briefs almost to his 
knees, wiggled a bit until they fell to his ankles, and stepped free. 
Naked as a nail and ready for business now.  "What's up, auntie?" he said.

Paula tried to sound serious, but couldn't help her laughter. "Cal," she 
said, "you are going to have to be less charming or Aunt Paula will never 
get to the lesson." Cal beamed. He had loved Aunt Paula all his life. 
Even before he lost his mom (Paula's elder sister) and dad, nephew and 
aunt had shared a tender delight in one another that was not unlike the 
love of parent and child. Paula was very young, a few years out of 
college, when her sister died; but neither she nor anyone concerned for 
the boy had ever doubted that she must be his guardian. 

She invited Cal to sit beside her on the couch. She put her arm around 
his shoulder and drew him against her. Cal loved the feel of Paula's 
dress against his skin. The crepe was slightly raspy and he was still 
boyishly smooth. Cal appreciated the contrast: a woman's dress, a boy's 
exposure. He squirmed against his aunt in the hope of being chafed. Aunt 
Paula allowed it, encouraged it even. Free though she was in showing Cal 
her solicitude toward him, she normally limited his modes of 
reciprocation. For Paula, it would be inexcusable to blur the line 
between her nephew's acts of deference toward all women, including 
herself, and mere greedy incest. The woman controls these things, she 
alone has the power to strip away ambiguity, decide the significance of 
every intimacy, ordain what she must never show and what her boy must 
never think. Paula's every desire toward Cal was indeed maternal, even 
this long-established insistence on his naked humility. It was for his 
own good.

But she was being strangely lenient today. So Cal thought, until she 
asked him to stand facing her once more. "Cal," she said, "I want to ask 
you some questions I know you know the answers to."

"I hope I do, Aunt Paula."

"They're questions about boys, Cal. About ladies too. You'll know how to 
answer. For instance: why are you standing naked in front of me like this?"

Cal was relieved. "Oh, I can answer, Aunt Paula. If that's the kind of 
question you mean. I'm standing naked in front of you because that's how 
a boy shows ladies his respect." There was no guess-work here: Cal had 
often repeated, for Aunt Paula and many of her friends, the tenets of her 
feminist catechism. "Because a boy mustn't keep secrets from ladies...," 
he continued.

"Secrets, Cal?"

"Things happen to a boy sometimes, auntie, when he sees or thinks of 
ladies or girls. I mean...."

"Things, Cal?"

"Like to his penis, auntie. It stands up...."

"IT stands up, Cal?"

"I mean, the girls, the ladies, they MAKE it stand up."

Paula nodded her understanding, as though she had never considered these 
matters before. It was a game she liked to play with her nephew. She had 
taught him everything, but it was lovely to ruffle him. "Why would the 
girls want to do a silly thing like that, Cal?"

"So the boy will know they have power over him. So he'll be respectful 
and obedient, auntie."

"And can the grls and ladies observe what happens to the boy?"

"Oh, yes, auntie. Very often they can. But...."

"You mean right through the boy's clothes?" Aunt Paula sounded incredulous.

"Oh, yes. That is...."

"Then why does the boy have to be naked, Cal? I'm not seeing this."

"That's what I was going to say, auntie. Many boys, when they realize 
what power girls and ladies have, well, they get frightened of it and 
they try to hide. And if they can't actually hide, they can still pretend 
that their penis isn't because of the girls at all. But when a boy is 
naked, he can't hide and...and...this is something that I think, auntie...."

"Tell me, Cal."

"He can't hide and he doesn't feel like it either. He doesn't want to any 
more. It's just what you've always said, Aunt Paula. My body doesn't lie 
even when my clothes do."

"Why is that, do you think, Cal?"

"I can't explain, Aunt Paula. I mean, you'd have to be a boy to 
understand...."

"I can't help you there, sweetheart, I'm happy to say."

"I mean, when you're a boy and you're naked and your penis is just out 
there like that, I don't know, auntie, you just have to go with it. If it 
was just there for you, it would be hidden inside you in private. But 
it's out there, auntie. So when you're naked you feel that means something."

"Isn't there something else, Cal?"

"Oh, there is. Do you mean...?"

"No, Cal. Don't ask me. It has to be something you already know." 

"Yes, auntie." Cal lifted his penis toward his stomach to give Paula an 
unobstructed view of his balls and pressed two fingers of his other hand 
between his testes. "It's these," he said. "Do you see how delicate they 
are, auntie?"

"I do, Cal. I see."

"Do you think that these things - they're called testicles, auntie...."

"Thank you, Cal. I'll remember that. They're very delicate indeed."

"Do you think that these testicles ought to be just hanging here like this?"

"What do you think, Cal?"

"I think that they should be, auntie. Because they're so easy to hurt 
this way. You can see that. So no lady or girl has to be afraid of a 
person with testicles on him. Because she can always teach him a lesson. 
It's so easy."

"What kind of lesson, Cal?"

"Her power over him, auntie. That's what I mean."

"Let me ask you, Cal: didn't you say a boy doesn't really want to hide 
his penis from a lady?"

"Yes. I mean, once he realizes...."

"Wait, though. Does it feel good when a boy's penis is hard?"

"Yes, auntie. Because it feels good to be honest and respectful to ladies."

"And it's honest and respectful also to let ladies know about these 
testicles you showed me?"

"Oh, yes, it is."

"I mean, to let them know about how easy they are to hurt?"

"Yes, that's what I meant to say."

"But tell me, Cal: do you think a boy would secretly like to be hurt that 
way, just as he secretly likes to get hard? I mean, if you're right and 
it IS the respect these things allow him to show to ladies, there 
shouldn't be any difference, should there, just because hurting is involved?"

"A boy could be more frightened of being hurt, though, auntie."

"Of course, darling. Of course. That's why you wait until he's a big boy...."

"How big, Aunt Paula?"

"Say, ten. I'd say, by the time he's ten a boy is ready. His penis and 
those testicles you were mentioning are big enough by then. And when he's 
ten, if he's had a good upbringing, he's already had a lot of training in 
showing his respect to ladies. As you have, Cal, as you have, my 
ten-year-old sweetheart. You impress everyone. All my friends, and their 
daughters (and you know how hard it is to impress young girls) - they 
always compliment me on your exemplary behavior. I know being so good at 
it keeps you busy, darling. But it makes Aunt Paula so proud of you, you 
know."

Busy was an understatement. A long story, which begins here: 

Cal was six and had been living with Paula for a year when his aunt's 
life-long faith in the supremacy of woman began to evolve into a concrete 
plan for raising her nephew. She knew in her heart that a worshipful man 
is a happy man and an adored and well-served woman happier still, and she 
wanted for her sweet nephew as much happiness as a life of early sorrow 
could still afford. Cal was her great love, and now she would make him 
her work as well. 

Perhaps it was as well, then, that Cal's parents had gotten it into their 
heads that circumcision is traumatic to an infant, and had refused to 
permit the procedure to be performed on their newborn son. Paula's gifts 
to Cal begin with that.

The circumcision question was one of the few occasions on which Paula had 
doubted the judgment of her capable big sister, the only one on which 
she'd thought her girlhood model silly. Becoming Cal's guardian, bathing 
the little boy daily, Paula found herself scandalized by the indecency of 
his "in tact" look. Uncircumcised men put her off. She couldn't say 
exactly why. A matter of aesthetics, she imagined. But for a long time 
she tried to reconcile herself to Cal's condition. This was her nephew, 
this was her love. Wanting nothing to compromise her tenderness for Cal 
on any level, even the bodily, Paula tried for a year and more to 
dissolve her repugnance. She adored the boy and reproached herself for 
the grief she felt at every sight of his innocent little watercock 
looking, after all, only as nature had intended. She tried every means to 
banish her revulsion - argument, fantasy, self-reflection. All the same, 
when the boy stood smiling as his aunt undressed him for his bath, this 
moment of intimacy which should have been one of the day's sweet 
interludes became for Paula a mine-field of ambivalence. It horrified her 
that she turned away from the boy's benign nudity. But her resolutions 
and brainwashings inevitably failed, and day after day, as she lowered 
the boy's white briefs, no beautiful miniature of a human organ appeared, 
but an obscene spigot, a pizzle waiting to grow great.

How could her sister have been so wrong? Why this stupid anomalous 
loyalty to so-called "nature" - and on the part of the woman, too, who 
had taught Paula the arts of make-up and feminine style and had assured 
her of their importance. How could she not have recognized the disservice 
to her sex in keeping her boy-child uncircumcised. Even if you rejected 
questions of hygiene, there remained deeper ones, of aesthetics, of humanity.

Paula did fear that she was on shaky ground about all this and she tried 
every gambit to rid herself of indefensible ideas. One device was 
concentrated self-analysis, a practice in which several years of Freudian 
shrinkage had made her proficient. The result of her self-analysis wasn't 
cure but resolution. For in a moment of compelling insight Paula saw how 
circumcision merely completed the paring away of man's disguise. No 
wonder the permanent uncloseting of that over-sensitive glans delighted 
her eye and mind. It denied a man even that whisp of covering allowed to 
him at birth. From girlhood on, Paula had helped many boys and men pull 
down their vanity along with their trousers. Now she would help her 
nephew to a  deeper humility, one that would truly get under his skin and 
endure there. It thrilled her now that he hadn't been done as an infant. 
She apologized to her sister's memory for her rash disapproval of that 
decision. Cal was six now. Conscious, intelligent, with a definable 
personality and many of boyhood's customary trait But at six the shell of 
the ego is still fairly thin: it takes ages, Paula knew, to build up the 
atrocious crust of false masculinity that women like her were dedicated 
to rupturing. Cal, happily, would never have the chance. Circumcision - 
not in private, not at the surgery, but in public, at a lively ceremony 
with Cal at the center and all ages of women to witness it, almost the 
way religious people do it, really - circumcision would demolish the 
little fortress of reflexes and instinctual pride which is the only 
defense a boy of six has yet had time to build. And the memory and the 
effect of that lovely catastrophe - at a woman's hands quite literally, 
for Paula had already selected the doctor who would crop the boy - would 
rule Cal's heart forever. 
 

end of part one








Travels With Aunt  Paula  II/6 


(for adults only
copyright 1996, Estragon Productions)


"It is a prick, it is a sting,
It is a pretty, pretty thing...."


As Aunt Paula had expected, his belated circumcision had a deep effect on 
Cal. Of course it did. But not for the pain alone, though this lasted
many days. Yet the shock of it went deeper and it would indeed last a
lifetime. On that day Cal truly became a man, at least in Aunt Paula's
unorthodox sense of the phrase. That trace of girlishness a young boy is
still 
permitted, that purity he may pretend to while his male organs are 
immature, in a single hour deserted him. The humiliation Cal experienced 
was irreparable, and even as small a boy as he, too young to have 
developed  masculine ways, had to reel beneath its shock. This wasn't the 
humiliation of unmasked pretense, nor even of exploded pride. This was 
something closer to the bone, a physical truth, a wound still awaiting 
the birth of the ego it would lodge in. Yes, Paula had foreseen it all. 

There had been ladies present. Even the doctor, Barbara, was one. No men, 
no boys, only ladies and girls. Children like himself - but also not at 
all like himself, not women, not breasted yet, still narrow-hipped, but 
more like women than like Cal, penis-less beings, smooth and silent and 
concealed where he was all stick-out and dangle. Paula had invited them 
right along with their moms. And their moms had thought it a splendid 
idea, a lesson their daughters would thank them for. They had watched 
with delight as the boy disrobed and, climbing from a chair as the doctor 
instructed, mounted Aunt Paula's dining-table, over which a crisp white 
sheet had been placed. They had seen Cal spread his legs as she commanded 
and watched her swab his penis with cotton soaked in chilly antiseptics 
which made him flinch. Two older girls had even been invited to come up 
to the table and hold Cal's legs apart. It pleased them to wear the 
sterile masks and gloves the doctor handed them. Cal felt a particular 
humiliation in their rubberized touch as they seized hold of his legs and 
stretched them wider. There was fear and shame in the pit of Cal's 
stomach. 

Holding Cal's penis between thumb and forefinger, the doctor described 
the operation she was about to perform. She spoke in a way that made it 
clear to Cal that she was determined to help the younger girls 
understand. "Boys are born, you see, with a little more skin down here 
than they'll ever need." She pulled Cal's prepuce back to reveal his 
glans. The sensation was not pleasant, but he tried to lie still as the 
doctor lightly tapped her finger on his exposed part. Several times she 
stretched and released his foreskin. Girls leaned in to see. They tugged 
at their mother's sleeves. They had urgent questions but seemed to think 
they'd better whisper. Some moms leaned over Cal too. One of them said, 
"You know, I've never actually seen a circumcision." 

"I've been to a couple," another offered, "but, you know, they're only 
eight days old then. There's not much boy to see."

Cal closed his eyes, ashamed. The doctor went on, still mindful of the 
puzzled girls. This day was more about girls than boys. That much was 
clear to Cal. "I am simply going to take a scalpel - that's a special 
sharp knife doctors use - and cut this silly skin right off of Cal's penis."

"That can't be fun for Cal," one of the girls said.

"Not right now, maybe," the doctor said. "It will hurt a little for a 
while, but Cal will be brave." She smiled down at the patient and pressed 
his arm reassuringly. "But almost all boys are circumcized nowadays, you 
know. It's better for them, better for their health, and better for their 
attitude as well."

Nobody appeared to have any trouble understanding this last, obscure 
remark. Even Cal, lying nervous and exposed as women and girls stood all 
around him, awaiting an event which Paula had said it was normal to 
celebrate, though one which the doctor herself admitted was going to be 
painful for the boy - even Cal vaguely intuited why Doctor Barbara had 
mentioned "attitude."  When the doctor exposed Cal's glans to all those 
female eyes, Cal truly understood what Aunt Paula had meant by her funny 
words, "extra naked." That skin the doctor said Cal didn't need: it was a 
little covering on a boy even when he was out of his clothes. Paula was 
always explaining that boys and men are always naked, even with their 
clothes on. So how could things get so backwards? How could a boy have a 
little covering growing right on his naked organ. Of course it had to go.

But that's what made circumcision so humiliating too. It was as though 
ladies were taking away your clothes and then saying, That's not enough, 
little fellow, we need to tug a little more of you out into the open. 
Make you, yes, "extra naked."

Cal felt the utter femininity of the room. Women and girls and, on the 
other hand, his solitary self, naked, on display, a single specimen of 
boy spread out on a sheet, his penis awaiting in fear the doctor's 
special knife. The rest was women and girls: long hair, smooth cheeks, 
reddened lips, jewelry. And dresses. Absolutely everyone skirted. His 
baby-sitter, a young teenager whom he'd only seen till now in well-worn 
jeans: in a kilt today, and under it white tights. His friends, his 
schoolmates - everyone in party clothes. Their beautiful dresses would 
always be a central part of Cal's memory of this day. Even much later, 
as an adolescent, Cal would regard their clothes as a truer 
revelation of women's essence than anything they concealed. 
Cal knew that women had their own kind of organs, tucked inside 
them. But even after puberty he rarely imagined them. For him, 
women were what they seemed on the outside: smooth, imperturbable bodies, 
more like serene goddesses than pliant flesh and blood. What if they did 
have secret parts? No man could control them with a glance. Never would 
they spring and live for him, or humbly swell beneath his careless power. 
Nor did they offer to amuse him with their easy pain: Cal had only to 
think of his testicles, daintily suspended in their tenuous sack, to feel 
anew the vast distance that separates man from woman. 


I'm going to spray you now with some stuff, Cal," Doctor Barbara said. 
"It'll feel cool and make your dicky get numb." Despite the warning, the 
icy liquid startled the boy and made him shake. The anesthetic was watery 
and Doctor Barbara had used lots of it. It soaked Cal's scrotum and 
dripped plentifully onto his belly and thighs. Wherever it fell, a frigid 
cold set in. Cal's penis frosted over. The numbness constricted and 
stiffened his innocent organ. This thing, his circumcision, was truly 
about to happen. Cal's heart pounded and his eyes filled with tears. "Can 
I have someone to hold his shoulders down, please," the doctor said. 
"Cal, sweetie, let your head lie back now." He had trouble giving in, but 
even when he did, his shaking continued. A woman appeared above him, 
gloved and masked, and leaned on his shoulders. He smelled her perfume 
and noticed through his clouded eyes her long earrings and shadowed eyes. 
She pressed him gently at first but bore down more firmly when he failed 
to stop shaking. Aunt Paula was staying somewhere in the background. Held 
down like this, Cal had no hope of seeing her, but he thought he heard 
her voice on the far side of the room. Aunt Paula sounded agitated, 
choked up. Cal thought he heard her say, "My baby...," in mournful 
syllables. Another woman seemed to be comforting her. "For the best," Cal 
heard her murmur, and "Really, Paula, he'll be okay."

Doctor Barbara was gripping Cal's penis between her fingers again. Her 
touch was far away, just on the edge of sensation, but it mingled 
strangely with the cold. "It's time now, Cal," the doctor said. "Be as 
still as you can be. Everybody, assistants, it's time," she announced. 
Even guests who had not been peering at the patient before now moved 
closer to the table. Cal shook and sobbed and began to heave. 

"I'll need another for his middle," the doctor called. "Someone?" A 
teenage girl came forward and quickly donned the sterile gloves and mask. 
The doctor planted the girl's two hands squarely on Cal's stomach. He 
heaved against them but the motion was no longer communicated to his 
pelvis. "Excellent," Doctor Barbara said, held her scalpel high for a 
moment, then quickly circumcized the boy. "It's nothing," she said. She was 
already dressing the wound. 

The guests let out a communal sigh of relief and turned to the 
refreshments. Aunt Paula rushed to the boy and lifted him into her arms. 
"Oh, my darling, my good, brave darling, you have been so strong today." 
Aunt Paula's eyes were wet. "I love you so, my wonderful boy. Oh, look at 
your poor, sweet penis. How I wish that boys weren't born like that. Then 
we wouldn't have to do this awful thing to them. But we have to, Cal. We 
have to. Don't we?"

Cal nodded weakly. "Do you see, everybody? Do you see, ladies? Girls, do 
you see? Cal knows that we had to do this thing to him. My sweet baby 
understands." 

But Cal was crying now. The cold was leaving his penis and the pain that 
replaced it was beginning to radiate. He begged to go to his bed, but 
Aunt Paula explained that he had to stay near her and the doctor for an 
hour at least. Besides, he was the guest of honor. A cot had been 
prepared for him in a corner of the room and Paula carried him to it. He 
lay propped up, softly sobbing. Pain was in flower all through his groin. 
All about him women and girls were laughing. Sometimes, he thought, he 
himself must have been the object of their mirth, he and his ordeal and the 
manifest horrors of being a boy, because girls would look his way
and whisper into one another's ear and laugh. For very much longer
than an hour Cal watched this female gala through his tears. 


 end of part two






Travels With Aunt Paula  III/6 


(for adults only
copyright 1996, Estragon Productions)



"Never been the sport, 
Always been too smart,
And you know all our boys
Are really girls at heart...."


Not the smallest thing in Cal's small life escaped the lessons of that 
day. The way he donned his clothes, how he felt once in them, the way he 
shed them. The way he played when he was alone with his miniature 
vehicles, or with other boys, mimicking the sounds of sirens and guns, 
the gruffness of fearless men. In the midst of the most boisterous 
adventure Cal would flag. A sadness fell for him like a concealing shadow 
over the virile game. To his friends it was as though an companion 
invisible to them had taken him aside. To Cal the vision was always near. 
He would see himself on the white sheet, a woman delicately exhibiting 
his penis between her gloved fingers, girls and women studying his 
pinioned nakedness. He would feel the cold, the sickly wetness - 
antiseptic, anesthesia, blood - his naked belly heaving against a young 
girl's hands, the benumbed edge of the scalpel feeling deceitfully blunt 
against his undervalued organ. As he propelled a tiny race-car or 
launched a tiny rocket, as he made war-like noises in unison with other 
boys, a sense of shame and imposture would betray him, draining his 
energy, stunting his roar, wrenching him half-circle to show him the 
truth of his life in slighted tears and shivering humiliation.

Cal had learned what he was. Such a lesson forms the prelude to desire. 
Not to ordinary wishes, of course: except for his hope of pleasing Aunt 
Paula, Cal had never wished for anything he was subjected to that day. 
What boy wishes to have his nakedness made a spectacle for the amusement 
of women and girls? What boy wishes to be held down on a table by them 
and forced to show his fear, to cry and shake uncontrollably, and in the 
end have a knife drawn by a woman across the organ that he alone in this 
roomful of females possesses? 

Yet there was something in addition to horror and shame in these 
memories. Even as he shuddered at them, Cal's penis would stiffen with 
unwelcome pleasure. His mind might protest, but the hard-on persisted. 
And if he gently stroked the margin of his extra-naked glans? Like a 
conditioned reflex, the movement would cause him to picture Doctor Barbara 
with her scalpel poised high above him - but Cal's penis would not retreat in

fear; on the contrary, a ripple of joy would pass through it and the 
muscle at its base would twitch and strain, as though it were trying to 
meet the doctor's knife half-way. 

Even before his wound had healed, women and girls began to catch Cal's 
eye, in a way they hadn't earlier and don't normally do in the case of a 
boy so young. Yet what he felt toward them was not ordinary lust, but a 
deference just tinged with formless yearning. As for the women and girls 
who had been present that decisive day: whenever Cal encountered even the 
youngest of them, he was aware, along with the deference and shy desire, 
of a powerful but obscure sense of obligation toward her. Would he owe 
all of these penis-less spectators a life-long duty to keep the memory of 
what they'd shared alive, to acknowledge in some way at every future 
meeting forever the force of what they had done to him? It seemed an 
unfair expectation of a little boy with so much life ahead, but any other 
view was worse than unfair: it had simply become impossible. 

end rp1/5
Vickie Tern@AOL.COM

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