Manspreading

[BabyAnna]

He sneered at me, and his voice carried contempt too. "Really?" he asked, "Accusing men of manspreading is so 2015."

I retained control, didn't roll my eyes. Didn't raise my voice. Didn't step up and kick him right between those wide spread thighs.

"Interesting that you use that term," is all I said, "I didn't. I just asked you not to sit opposite me with your knees wider than a desperate whore's."

I hadn't said that to him originally either, but he took it well. 

"Well why not," he said, "I'm open for business too."

"So why wave your crotch at me?" I asked. "I'm hardly going to step between your thighs and stick something inside you. You'll need a man for that."

He actually brought his legs closer together at that, but only so he could lean forward, speak to me from closer across the aisle. "I'm sat down, lady, I figured you'd want a wide stable platform as you wrapped your legs around me."

What could I say to that?

"You'd like that would you?"

He smirked, cocksure in so many ways, nodded at me and leaned back again, his knees moving further apart as he did. "Sure, you look.. experienced. We could have some fun together."

I was flattered, but not enough. I played it shy though, allowed myself to blush, lower my gaze a little, look up at him through my eyelashes. "This is my stop," I said, standing up. I wriggled my hips a little as I got off the train, and it did the trick. He followed, subtly at first then with long strides catching up with me. I held out an arm and he took it in his, a right proper gentleman.

He tried small talk with me on the short walk back home. I shushed him, no need to get to know each other. As we entered my house I showed him into the lounge, invited him to take a seat, walked into the kitchen.

Moments later I joined him, handed him an open bottle of beer, expensive lager. My glass of wine went on the table, a cup mat that I made sure he saw me use. He got the hint, put his beer on one too. Good boy, but too late now.

"Enjoy that beer while I change into something more comfortable," I told him. Corny old lines still work, especially that one, in that situation. That was always a promise.

I was back quickly, my drab leggings and tunic top gone, a tasteful camisole top showing my bra, a short skirt fluffed out by petticoats flashing the top of the hold-ups I'd quickly pulled on. I'd skipped the heels, they would've come straight off again anyway.

I struck a pose in the doorway. He took his bottle from his mouth, looked up, smiled, let his eyes take it all in. I wasn't in my prime any more but he wasn't complaining, patted the seat beside him. "Well hello sexy, why don't you come and sit here."

Corny old lines still work, but not that one. I walked towards him but sat opposite, a reprise of our roles on the train. This time as I sat down I spread my knees, a little at first, widening as he watched. He wasn't watching them, or my thighs, but where those met, hidden behind the fluffy skirt that was long enough to drape down between them.

I coughed gently, and he looked up, didn't even have the grace to acknowledge his inappropriate focus. Maybe he felt it appropriate.

"I couldn't help it," I said, "couldn't keep my thighs together either."

He grinned at that, put his beer on the table - on a cup mat, I was glad to see - and stood up.

I grinned as he fell back down, his legs giving way beneath him. If he'd been a girl he'd have known better than to drink a beer someone else opened, that he hadn't been in control of.

The joy of date rape drugs is that nobody can remember what happened. He wouldn't remember coming to my house, or me stripping him naked. I didn't have trousers in his size and his no longer fit, no over the thick diaper I'd put him in. That was what I'd changed into, why I couldn't close my thighs, and why he couldn't now close his.

I couldn't send him out like that though so he got one of my old skirts, just as fluffed out by petticoats as my own, but instead of hold-ups I put him in a pair of dainty lace topped nylon socks. Annoyingly his legs looked great in those, the skirt too short to hide them. Good job I'd shaved them, and that wasn't all I'd shaved. He wouldn't want nasty hair making cleaning himself harder.

He'd need to clean himself too. I told him to speak up if he didn't want the enema but he said nothing. Unconscious people tend to be quiet, but I did ask. Unconscious people don't fight an enema either, even one as large as his.

Getting him back to the train was a challenge, a friend helping out, trying not to giggle the whole time. "Drunk," we explained to the only person that queried us, disgust in our voice. They didn't challenge that, a man in a short skirt and dainty socks with bright red lipstick could be easily believed to lack personal control.

I'd done his lips too. He'd surely want to look his best on the train.

We left him sat there, the diaper forcing his thighs apart, the skirt carefully arranged to not drape between them, his thick diaper clearly on show. Left him there, his t-shirt hiding the words written on him with a sharpie. Left him there, his head pushed back, resting on top of the seat back, his mouth open, drool escaping past those bright red lips. Left him there, to wake up, discover how we'd left him. Discover what the enema had done to him. Discover what the other passengers had done to him. Discover those words he'd be wearing for a few days.

"You wanted to spread your legs. Now you have no choice. Next time we'll make it permanent."

I added his photograph to my collection. One day I'd get a repeat customer; I was looking forward to that.

 

[Babypants]

And ... another instant classic.

[adot]

When even the fantasy stories involve coerced consent to pay to play, we are on the very darkest timeline... 

[BabyAnna]

I'm sorry, your reply has confused me. There's no coercion here, no pay to play and I'd class this as fiction rather than fantasy.

Also no consent, which does help make it dark, but you should see what I do to the first person narrator in some of my other works. This is nothing.

[Cute_Kitten]

This was a fun one with some classic BabyAnna twists.

[keith60]

i hope there is more to this story soon

[BabyAnna]

This was only meant to be a three sentence story to start with, no plans to write anything more.