The Perfect Match, Pt. 1
KNOCK KNOCK!
Standing outside of a posh townhome on the wealthier side of town was JW, an average-looking and mild-mannered guy. Dressed in a wrinkled, orange T-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting jeans that he really should’ve purchased a belt for by now, one wouldn’t suspect that he was standing on this very doorstep in anticipation of a date with a girl he matched on a dating app. He honestly couldn’t believe it himself when he saw who he matched with.
Elma M. That was the name JW stumbled upon one drunken weekday night when flipping through girls on Bumblr. Unlike most of the other girls he’d happened upon, she was more than just cute or good with makeup and lighting. She was an absolute knockout with an almost cartoonishly perfect hourglass figure. Her bio made sure to brag about her E-cups, something that only turned JW on more. He definitely was looking for an attractive and confident woman like her. With little self-awareness and a crap ton of wishful thinking, he swiped right and hoped for the best.
To his gleeful surprise, about half a day later after he had sobered, JW received a notification on his phone saying that Elma M. had matched with him. He practically jumped for joy as he stared down at his phone, feeling a sense of pride welling up in his chest. After a brief but pleasant conversation, he and Elma agreed to meet at her place for a Friday evening date. To think that not only would he be going on a date with one of the hottest women he’d ever laid eyes on but he’d be stopping by her house first. Maybe if he was lucky, they would swing by her place after the date as well.
While JW was nothing but confident in his match with Elma, his friends were far more skeptical, trying to remind him if something on the internet seems too good to be true, it almost certainly is. He attempted to quell their doubts by boasting about Bumblr’s top-notch verification system which made it nearly impossible for someone to fake an account. Sadly, his friends weren’t exactly swayed. Rolling his bright, green eyes at their cynicism, he decided the best way to prove them wrong was to go on the date and brag about it afterward.
Raaaaaaattle! CLICK!
The sounds of the front door unlocking pulled JW’s wandering mind back to reality. He quickly straightened up his poster and adjusted his stance so that his “good” angle was pushed forward. Running his fingers through his neck-length brown hair one last time, his face brightened into a smile, ready to greet his date.
“Hi! You must be JW!” said Elma with a deep, sultry voice as her ruby-red lips stretched into a warm smile. The photos on Bumblr failed to capture just how drop-dead gorgeous this woman was. Her long, auburn hair shimmered under the glow of the porch lights, accenting her delicate skin tone perfectly.
Tragically, JW was not aware of this as his eyes were drawn in by the hypnotic pull of Elma’s sweater puppies. Contrary to his mundane appearance, she was wearing a black evening dress with a slit running down the side of her leg and a fashion belt strapped around her waist. The length of the dress did nothing to hide just how tall Elma was, standing more than a couple of inches above JW’s painfully average height of 5’9”.
Stepping out of the doorway, Elma happily stood over JW, looking down at him as she extended her arm for a handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, accepting JW’s slightly damp hand into her own, “Please, come inside, won’t you? I’m almost finished getting ready.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned to make her way back inside the house while keeping a grip on JW’s appendage.
Not that JW would’ve turned Elma down anyway. If she had asked him to be her dog, he would’ve rolled over and barked at her beck and call. Entering her well-manicured apartment, he was instantly blown away by how spotless and trending everything was. All the furniture matched the tan-colored walls and soft, beige carpet, creating a relaxing environment. It was certainly a far cry from his drab studio, which had not been thoroughly cleaned since he moved in.
“Kick your shoes off at the door, please. Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?” said Elma, shutting the door behind JW and locking it tight. Once again, she didn’t wait for an answer, making a B-line directly toward the kitchen.
Obeying Elma’s request, JW, quickly slid his tennis shoes off without untying them and parked himself down on the plush couch. “Um…sure. Thank you,” he said, not really being much of a tea person but far too nervous to turn down her offer. As he waited for Elma to return with his teacup, he glanced around her living room, admiring the small bits of personality hidden within her decor. From the abstract painting of a child playing with blocks to the music box with a cutely-dressed ceramic infant on top, she clearly had a thing for baby imagery. Based on the fact that she was getting into her 30s, it was clear to him that she must’ve been eager to settle down. This thought caused him to snicker as he mumbled under his breath, “Guess all those asshole dudebros didn’t work out, so she’s finally giving a nice guy a try.”
After a couple of minutes of tapping his finger on the armrest of the couch before transitioning to tapping his finger on the touch screen of his phone, Elma finally returned with a fine china tea cup on a small serving platter in hand. “Here you are! You go ahead and drink up. I’ll be ready in a jiffy,” she said, gently handing the cup and saucer to JW. After the handoff, she proceeded to watch JW for a moment, waiting for him to take his first sip.
Feeling the pressure of Elma’s eyes on him, JW lifted the cup to his mouth and took in a small sip. Pleasantly, the tea was the perfect temperature, not too warm and not too cold. That was nothing compared to the flavor, which danced on his tongue in a mixture of fruity and leafy undertones. “Mmmm! It’s delicious,” he said before tipping the cup back for another, much larger gulp.
Pleased by JW’s enjoyment of the tea, Elma turned to leave, watching him in the corner of her eye as he chugged down the contents of the teacup. She had anticipated him to take longer to finish his cup. However, since he was so unrefined as to slurp down the entire cup in one fell swoop, she supposed she might as well get started. “Tell me, JW…” she said in a far less sweet tone as she slowly turned around to face JW again from the other side of the room, a looming shadow shrouding her face in darkness, “...Is that really what you’re planning to wear on our date?”
Polishing off the last of his tea, JW coughed as Elma’s question caught him off-guard. Surely the kind-sounding woman who had treated him so nicely up to this point didn’t just say something so pointed. Unfortunately, as he looked up from his cup, any doubts he had were laid to rest by her stoic expression. “I-I…um…” he stuttered, a knot welling up in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t really one for confrontation, so hearing Elma be so directly disappointed in his appearance hit him hard.
“‘I’ and ‘Um’? Is that really all you have to say for yourself?” asked Elma, strutting back across the living room until she towered over a still-seated JW, “I cannot fathom why you assumed a t-shirt and blue jeans were acceptable attire for a dinner date. If this relationship is going to work, I expect the same level of output from you that I put in. Understand?”
Scared by Elma’s sudden turn-face-heel, JW nodded quickly. While he partially began to notice why someone as beautiful as Elma was still single, his desperation for her voluptuous body led him to hope this would only be a minor speed bump in what would surely be a long and loving relationship. “If you g-give me twenty minutes, I can go home and change,” he said, praying that he remembered to wash his good button-up in the last load of laundry.
“And waste my time? Funny!” responded Elma, shaking her head in disapproval, “A bunch of my brother’s clothes are still here. Strip and I’ll fetch you something more fitting for a date with someone like me.” She punctuated her sentence by folding her arms across her bodacious chest.
Nodding meekly for a second time, JW was honestly a little relieved that he wouldn’t have to rush all the way home, though he was also nervous about letting a girl he’d just met dress him. As hesitant as he was, he wasn’t about to risk having her turn him away. “F-Fine. Can you show me to a bathroom or spare room to change?” he asked, still clutching the teacup between his fingers.
“Ha! And give you the chance to rifle through my stuff? Fat chance,” said Elma, glaring holes through JW’s skull, “No, you’ll strip right here, right now, or the date is off.”
Cowering in his seat, JW was so intimidated by Elma that he could faint. As frightening as she was in her present state, he couldn’t help but find himself aroused by how dominant she was. The conflict in his brain threatened to give him whiplash. Reluctantly, he climbed to his feet and began to lift his shirt over his head, too committed to his date with a bombshell to refuse at this point. However, as he removed his orange top and showed off his slender, scrawny physique, he remembered which pair of underwear he had chosen to wear that day, causing him to blush at the thought of showing them to Elma. “P-Please, can I have some privacy for the next part?” he pleaded, hoping for an ounce of mercy from his date.
“Nope! Pants down now, lover boy,” said Elma, showing no leniency toward JW. With how close she was to getting him undressed, he was nearly to the point of no return. All she had to do was push him a little further to seal the deal.
With shaky hands, JW reached down for the front button of his pants, not certain he had the emotional strength to see this through. His face was beet red with humiliation and he hadn’t even lowered his jeans yet. In the back of his mind, he knew if he let her see what he was wearing under his pants that any shot of a long-term romance with Elma would be dead and gone. Taking a deep breath, he readied himself to stand up to his date, “I can’t. I’ll wear whatever you want me to. Just don’t make me do this.”
Rolling her eyes, Elma closed the gap between her and JW as she reached down and placed her hands on the waistband of his jeans. “If you’re not going to do it, I’ll just have to do it for you,” she said starkly as she yanked JW’s pants down with enough force to strip him in one go. Now that his jeans were around his ankles, her eyes went wide as she finally figured out why he’d been so resistant, “HAHAHA! Are those…tighty whities?!”
Sure enough, stretched around JW’s waist was a pair of fresh tighty whities, their newly-purchased status on display due to the lack of loose threads and laundry stains. Adding to his embarrassment was his less-than-flaccid cock, which pulsed against the fabric of his undies. A small dot of precum accentuated the tip of his penis, letting Elma know exactly what he thought of her.
“Oh my Goddess! This is just too much,” said Elma, keeping a tight grip on JW’s pants so that he couldn’t scurry away. Positioning herself so she could free up a hand, she reached across his unshaven thighs and lightly flicked the girth of JW’s little JW, “Is that all the harder it can get? I take it JW must stand for Junior Wiener. No wonder you’re wearing tighty whities! Grade-school undies for a grade-school-sized cock.”
Unable to stomp his legs free from Elma’s hold, JW could do nothing more to hide from his shame than cover his face with one hand while meekly pushing Elma’s hand away with the other. “Y-You don’t have to be a b-bitch about it,” he mumbled angrily through gritted teeth with his damaged pride. As someone who didn’t have a ton of confidence in his four-inch weapon, this was by far the most devastating night of his life, “Just let me p-pull my pants up and I’ll get out of your hair.”
While JW may have wanted a hasty retreat, Elma wasn’t about to let him off so easily. As JW tried to shuffle away again, she thrust the bunched pants upward, stripping them off of JW’s legs and causing him to fall back onto the couch. He wasn’t allowed to settle in for too long, though, as she proceeded to wrap her fingers around the hem of JW’s underwear and pull him back into a standing position. “Oh, you’re not going anywhere, Junior,” she said, bluntly declaring her new nickname for her newest pet. Adding a bit of force to her statement, she shifted her hand to the rear of JW’s undies and tugged them upward, giving him the mother of all wedgies.
“AHHHHHHHHH! S-STAWP IT! LEMME GO!” screamed JW as he was practically lifted off of his feet by his underwear alone. Tragically, his cries fall on deaf ears with Elma showing an ounce of empathy toward her date-to-be. He could practically feel threads popping loose as his body weight worked against him. It was only then that he realized just how much weaker he was than Elma. Her height was one thing but now that she was holding him up, it was plain as day that this woman could easily carry him by one arm if she wanted; a thought that buried his soul in fear.
Shaking her head at JW’s pitiful attempt to claw himself away from her grasp, Elma decided it was time to call it. “I think it’s safe to say that date is officially off now. I’m looking for a man, not some oafish boy,” she said, pulling him up higher so that his feet were officially dangling in mid-air, “Now, you’ve wasted my time. I put a lot of work into getting ready for tonight and turned down quite a few dates when I accepted yours. So, I expect an apology, Junior!”
“I-I-I’m sorry!” cried JW, tears streaming down his cheeks as he pleaded for forgiveness. Between the brute force of the wedgie and the power behind Elma’s voice, everything was so overwhelming.
Unfortunately, the pain from having his undies pulled up for so long had caused him to miss the pings of pain resonating from his bladder. Lost in a haze of humiliation and terror, he helplessly began to wet himself; warm, yellow streams trickling down his legs and dripping onto the carpet.
Elma’s hands stopped fighting against JW’s resistance as an evil smile curled across her lips. Not wanting to give herself away, she quickly suppressed her wicked intentions and instead feigned shock and ignorance. “Are you…fucking kidding me?” she said in a tone of voice that was much too calm given the unfolding events.
From JW’s perspective though, Elma’s calmness only made her words more menacing. As soon as he realized what was happening, his hands rushed to cover his crotch, as if applying external pressure would cause him to stop peeing. His attempts to stem the flow failed spectacularly with the pungent, yellow liquid pooling beneath his socks.
“I don’t know who mothered you but that clearly failed,” said Elma, leaning in so her face was only pinky’s length away from JW’s. In one, swift jerking motion, she stretched JW’s tighty whities to the limit, listening to the cacophonous crackling of fabric beginning to tear all the while, “I think it’s about time someone started over with you.”
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!
Collapsing onto the floor where a pool of his own piss had gathered, it had only taken a few minutes of being in Elma’s townhome for JW to turn into a shell of his former self. Lines of snot and drool bubbled down his face, accenting his uncontrollable tears. Tilting his head toward the floor like a dog who knows they’re in trouble, he couldn’t bear to look up and see Elma waving his tattered, yellow-stained undies over his head. He wanted to run away and never look back but sadly, given that the last scrap of clothing he had on was mercilessly ripped away, he was now stuck under Elma’s thumb until she either dressed him or kicked him out; the latter of which he prayed happened after the former.
-------------------------------------------
The warmth of the shower felt nice on JW’s raw skin. After falling into a puddle of his own urine, he supposed he should be grateful to Elma for letting him clean himself up, though part of him assumed she only did it to keep him from tracking any more pee around the house. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he cracked the bathroom door open and sheepishly called out, “H-Hey Elma, I’m all done.”
“Okay, I’m just picking out stuff for you to wear. Come join me in the room at the end of the hall,” responded Elma, no longer sounding nearly as agitated.
Stepping out of the bathroom, JW peeked into the living room, finding several damp towels placed along the floor. Seeing the aftermath of his accident caused his face to flush instantly. He quickly looked away and B-lined straight for the door at the end of the short hall, hoping that Elma would have the carnage cleared while he got dressed.
As JW entered the room, he expected to find Elma’s bedroom, guest room, or maybe even a home office. What he didn’t expect was for the scent of baby powder to assault his nostrils as soon as he broke the plane into the room. To his surprise, all around him was a meticulously organized nursery done up in soft, pastel colors. It had everything one would expect to see in a baby room, from furnishings such as a changing table, a crib, and a large diaper pail, to a wide selection of toys and baby outfits that would make any infant feel like the luckiest kid in the world.
Why all of this was in such an attractive woman’s house was beyond JW. The first assumption that came to his head was that she must’ve had a kid, which might explain why she was still single this late in her life. However, that theory was thrown out the window as, upon taking a more critical look, he noticed that all of the furnishings were much too large for any baby to interact with. Maybe it was a daycare service? Or perhaps her kid was special needs?
Before JW could settle on an answer in his brain, Elma emerged from the closet with a bright orange piece of fabric folded neatly in her hands. “Go ahead and throw this on,” she said, offering the clothing to JW.
Due to the fact that the cloth in his hand was the same color as the shirt he’d shown up in, JW’s brain instantly connected the dots, leading him to assume what he was holding was his own t-shirt. This theory was quickly debunked, though, thanks to the difference in fabric type. Intrigued, he unfurled the folded attire, watching as it rolled past his belly and stopped just above his crotch. Only, unlike a normal shirt, this one seemed to curve back inward at the bottom…and had a set of three buttons lining the bottom hem… “Um, excuse me but I think you gave me a…a onesie?”
“It’s not a mistake,” said Elma nonchalantly, as if nothing was out of place, “Now, hurry up and get it on, but don’t touch the snaps.”
Blushing slightly, JW’s mind refused to believe that Elma actually intended for him to wear such a getup. He chuckled nervously, deciding to play off how mortifying her little prank was. “Haha, very funny. Look, I said I was sorry about the carpet and I promise I’ll pay for a cleaner but this is honestly a pretty tasteless joke,” he said, setting the onesie aside.
Stomping across the nursery, Elma was done with JW’s insolence. She whisked his towel away and grabbed him by the ear and forced him in close. “I don’t think you realized what’s happening here, so let me spell it out for you,” she said, causing his waterworks to slowly reactivate, “I said hurry up and get it on, and do not touch the snaps. Now, are you going to listen, or am I dragging you out of my house butt naked?”
With his lip quivering, a shaken JW picked the onesie back up and began to fit it over his head. It was surprisingly more snug than he thought when initially presented with the outfit, hugging his torso as he shifted the stretchy fabric across his body.
“There, doesn’t that feel much safer and cozier,” said Elma, patting JW’s hair as she took him by the arm and led him to the changing table, “Hop on up so I can finish changing you.”
Taking a step back, JW instinctually shook his head no, well aware of what Elma’s intentions were. “Nononono, you can’t be…s-serious…” he said, his voice trailing off as he looked into Elma’s eyes, only to see how deadly serious she really was. With his digits still clasped within hers, he allowed himself to be guided back to the changing table, where Elma placed her hands on his hips and lifted his butt onto the table. The cool, padded surface of the table caused him to wince ever so slightly.
“See, not so scary, right?” said Elma, her condescending, motherly voice beginning to leak through the cracks of her facade as she placed a diaper flat on the changing table, “I’m going to lay you back now. Try to keep still until I finish, and I’ll make sure you get a lovely reward.”
By this point, JW was locked in place by sheer panic, too afraid to run while also dreading what was to come if he stayed. Losing every ounce of his autonomy with each passing second, he mindlessly allowed Elma to rotate him and lay him back gently, prompting her to slide the diaper under his butt. He felt the air leave his lungs as the plastic surface of the diaper crinkled as he was stationed atop it.
“Breathe, baby boy. I promise it’ll be over before you know it. I am a professional, after all,” said Elma, as she began lathering up his diaper area with lotion, making sure to save his twig and berries for last, “Look at it! It’s even more shriveled up than before! A penis so small it was practically made for diapers.” She giggled, watching the redness pile onto JW’s cheeks from the corner of her eyes. Setting the lotion aside, she grabbed the bottle of baby powder from the changing table’s shelf and made it snow all over her new newborn’s pelvic region.
As the diaper was folded up between his legs, JW felt the last gasp of his material adulthood vanish in thin air as his babyish wardrobe was now complete. He barely recognized himself as he looked down and watched Elma press the onesie’s buttons into place.
Rounding out his ensemble, Elma hoisted a pair of locking, silk mittens and booties onto him, adding to his defenseless dependency. She also popped a pacifier in his mouth, silencing any future protests that might arise. “There we go! Properly dressed and ready for a night in with Mother Elma,” she said as she lifted JW into her arms and held his head close to her chest, “Also, I’d better not see that that paci leave your lips without permission, or else there’ll be consequences. Understand?”
Snuggled up in Elma’s arms, JW nodded compliantly as he fought against the parts of his psyche that gained any sort of enjoyment from this. Sure, being so close to Elma’s enormous E-cups was a blessing for any man but not at the cost of his adulthood! Waking himself from the hypnotic magnetism of gargantuan gazongas, he worked up the courage to ask a single question from around the nipple of his binky, “C-Can I go home now?”
Approaching their destination, Elma held onto her answer for a little longer, waiting until the perfect moment. She planted a kiss on the tip of his nose as she grabbed onto the pair of straps hanging down from the ceiling and pulled them open wide enough for JW’s legs to slip through. With JW in place, she let him drop into the harness, landing with an adorable pomf as his butt slotted in Elma’s adult-sized baby bouncer that was high enough to keep him from ever getting a solid footing.
Before JW could even react to his new surroundings, Elma took hold of both his hands and connected the mittens he was wearing to a chain that was elaborately hung over the bouncer, fixing his arms into a more permanent position. It hadn’t taken nearly as long as she thought it would but the hard part was officially over. With JW locked up in the bouncer with no hope of escaping on his own, things were about to get a lot more fun, especially once her friends arrived.
KNOCK KNOCK!
Speaking of the devil, Elma’s mischievous grin returned. “I wonder who that could be. Wait, right here, Junior. Mother Elma will be right back,” she said, skipping to the nursery entrance and making her way toward the front door.
Left alone bobbing up and down, JW could hear the door creak open, followed by a muddle of female voices chattering, though he couldn’t make out who else was talking or what they were conversing about. He considered momentarily threatening to call the cops once Elma came back but decided against it, worried she might retaliate. Closing his eyes, he wished to whoever might be listening for this nightmare to be over, praying that whoever was at the door didn’t get invited back to see him. Sadly, hearing multiple footsteps and voices moving through the hall, he had a feeling that prayer wasn’t going to be answered.
“OMG! You really did a number on him Elma!”
“Yeah, even though it all went to plan, I can’t believe he turned out so perfectly.”
JW didn’t even have to look at who had entered the nursery to know who it was. Those two voices were so burned into his memory that there was no way he could forget. Angling his head toward the door, he confirmed what he already knew. Standing in the doorway with eager expressions were Hannah, his most recent ex-girlfriend, and Kaley, his very first relationship. Confused, horrified, and embarrassed to high heaven, his mouth went slack, resulting in his pacifier dropping to the floor.
TO BE CONTINUED…