The Toybox, Part 1 (Patreon)

  Delia Matherson put her earrings in and rubbed her lips together to spread her pale lipstick. She examined herself in the bathroom mirror. She was dressed in comfortable jeans, white sneakers, and a light pink sweater. Her outfit might have come off as a bit frumpy if she were going to a nice restaurant, but for her quiet job at the local records department, it served perfectly well. She pulled a stray red hair away from her temple, patted her pockets to ensure that her phone, wallet, and keys were all accounted for, and headed to the front door to start her day of minding the front desk and tracking down documents. Her mind was already leaving behind her present circumstances and projecting forward to her plans for the evening. She left the bathroom and was suddenly frozen with shock at what she saw.

 A woman in her mid-twenties was standing in her living room. The front door was hanging open, letting in the cool morning breeze. As odd as it seemed, Delia could only conclude that the young woman had simply opened her front door and strolled in without even bothering to ring the doorbell. She seemed to be lazily looking around, examining the furniture in the spacious living room with a strange mix of boredom and approval, a sort "Sure, this'll do." look.

 Delia recovered from her shock and cleared her throat to get the stranger's attention. "Uh, excuse me, young lady, are you lost? You can't just walk into someone's home without being invited. Who on earth raised you?"

 The woman did not look at all startled or apologetic. She gave Delia a look up and down, smiling faintly.

 "Ah, no big deal. Those silly rules of yours don't really apply to me." explained the young woman.

 Delia winced. It was embarrassing to be corrected like that, especially in her own home. She mentally kicked herself for not realizing that the usual rules of private property didn't apply to this young lady. She wasn't at all clear how that could be, but the idea of questioning the information never entered her mind.

 "Oh dear! I'm really very sorry about that. Um, who are you, exactly?" asked Delia. The young woman sauntered over and began examining Delia more closely. Delia blushed self-consciously. Her loose sweater and roomy capris-length jeans didn't really flatter her figure, and the younger woman was paying an inordinate amount of attention to her chest and rear. She considered rebuking her visitor for this as well, but wasn't prepared to risk such an accusation again so soon after being so mistaken about her right to control who entered her home.

 "Hmmm. You're kinda cute! I like that mom-jeans look you've got goin' on. Do you live alone here?"

 Delia was getting very uncomfortable. She rubbed her hands together nervously as her visitor circled around her with an imperious smile on her lips. "Well, yes...since the divorce. But who are..."

 "I'm just your Mistress. No big deal. I'm just here to let you know that I'll be controlling your life from now on."

 Delia frowned. That was unusual. She had never had a Mistress before, and she didn't much like the idea of this young woman controlling her life. Still, it wasn't like it was a big deal. "Hmm. Well, okay. I'll just be on my way then. I need to get to work." Delia moved to walk past the stranger.

 "No." her Mistress stated firmly.

 Delia paused. "Wh-what's the matter?"

 "You're done with your old job, whatever the hell it was. I have a new job for you. You'll be working from home from now on."

 Delia was disappointed. She really rather liked her job, and she knew her friends at work would miss her if she suddenly quit. But, it wasn't like it was up to her, so she nodded respectfully to her Mistress. "Oh. Alright then. What am I going to do here, then?"

 "I'm going to be using this house as a toybox from now on. You're going to stay here and maintain it for me. I'll send some of my toys over here, and you'll look after them, so they'll be ready whenever I want to play with them. That will be your purpose in life from now on."

 Delia frowned. This was all rather sudden. She liked her home, but living in it full-time sounded more than a little confining. Still, at least having a purpose in life didn't sound too bad. She politely nodded her head. "Uh, alright then? And, what kind of toys are we talking about here?"

 The strange woman laughed. Delia felt it was a mean sort of laugh. Her Mistress reached forward and cupped Delia's breasts in her hands. Delia was surprised and let out a squeak of fright, but she remembered that this woman was in control of her life, so it wasn't really her place to object to being fondled.

 "You...are my toy. You belong to me. This house is also mine now, and I will do what I please with it. Now, I'm going to go out and get more toys, and I'm going to store them here, under your care." said her Mistress, playfully lifting Delia's breasts up and down as she spoke. Delia didn't care for the idea of being a toy, but she was definitely a toy and there was nothing to be done about that now. "You are to greet everyone who shows up at the door with a great big hug and a kiss. It will be your job to keep everyone who stays at this house all fed and clean and comfortable. Think you can handle that?"

 "Su-ure, I guess." said Delia nervously, as her Mistress began plating with the roll of fat on her belly. She really wished that her Mistress was not so handsy.

 "Do you have an apron? You'd look better with an apron." said her Mistress.

 "Well, yes, but I don't usually..."

 "Go get it." interrupted her Mistress impatiently.

 Delia retrieved an apron from a drawer in the kitchen. It was white with a lace fringe. It had been an anniversary gift, which is why she was reluctant to wear it. It hadn't actually been the actual cause of her divorce, obviously, but it sure hadn't helped either.

 "Very nice! That'll be your new work uniform."

 Delia frowned at that, but she nodded and started to put the apron on.

 "No, no. You misunderstand. That's your entire work uniform. No other clothes besides an apron. Not ever."

 Delia blushed heavily and looked down at her shoes. "Um, w-what kind of hours am I going to be working?"

 "All of them. All the time. That ought to save you some cash in the ol' clothing budget, eh?" giggled her Mistress.

 Delia wasn't laughing. She felt a sharp tightness in her stomach as she mentally bid farewell to her outfit. She liked her clothes. It was sad that her Mistress would not allow her to wear them anymore. She solemnly began pulling off her sneakers, sweater, jeans, bra, and finally her panties, tossing each item into a pile on the couch. Soon she was standing the living room with the front door still hanging open, with all the most intimate regions of her body on display. She did her best to cover herself with her arms, but it was largely futile. Her cheeks were practically crimson.

 "Here, I'll tie it on for you."

 Her Mistress gently spun her around and tied the apron on with a big bow, giving her naked rear a resounding swat when she was finished. The apron was not really adequate to conceal Delia's bust. Delia's pulse was racing. She was beginning to feel nausious.

 "Perfect. Kindas makes you look like a housekeeper or a nanny. Like...maternal, but in a subservient way. Just perfect for looking after all my toys."

 Delia felt like she was being made the butt of some sort of awful joke, but she nodded acknowledgement of her Mistress' approval.

 "Now, smile. No being a grumpy-britches when I'm around." ordered Mistress.

 Delia's mouth spread into a cheerful smile. Her eyes did not follow suit. Her Mistress tapped the end of her nose and pinched her cheek condescendingly.

 "I'll give you a call when I have more instructions for you. Keep your phone handy. What's your number?"

 Delia really didn't want her new Mistress to have her phone number, but seeing that she was a mere toy and this woman controlled her life entirely, she saw no alternative. She recited her number dutifully as her Mistress saved it into her phone.

 "Cool. Oh, and from now on your new name will be...let's see...Mrs. Sugratits! Put up a sign out front so that everyone knows this is the Sugartits house."

 Mrs. Sugartits didn't care much for her new name, and she really didn't like the idea of having to put up a sign outside with only an apron on. She wrinkled her nose and sighed deeply, but kept her smile firm. There was nothing to be done but to do her best to serve her new Mistress. "Aah. Okay, I'll...go take care of that, I guess."

 "Good to hear it!" said her Mistress, grinning in spite of Mrs. Sugartits' obvious displeasure. She turned and sauntered out the door, leaving Mrs. Sugartits feeling very uncertain. She watched as her Mistress strolled into the street, stopped a passing car, had a brief exchange with the driver, then climbed in. The car started up and rolled away.

 Mrs. Sugartits' smile disappeared the instant her Mistress was out of sight. The whole exchange had taken less than ten minutes, and yet now she had new name, a new job, no clothes other than an apron, and a Mistress who controlled her life. It wasn't really a big deal obviously, but she still felt very annoyed at having her life circumstances changed so dramatically without any warning. She didn't think she would enjoy her new job much. Still, she had work to do.

 She had a corner of her garage set aside for craft projects, which she kept well-stocked. She was able to find the materials for her new sign relatively quickly. As much as she disliked her new name, she wanted the sign to look nice if it was going to be on display in front of her home, so she took the time to paint the signboard in an even shade of yellow and carefully formed each letter in a neat cursive script of bright lavender. Her work called to ask if she were coming in, and she explained that she couldn't anymore. They seemed angry disappointed, but didn't inquire further. Mrs. Sugartits felt bad to just abandon them lik this without notice, but it was what her Mistress demanded. With the addition of a decorative border of looping curls, the sign was complete. Moving as quickly as she could and hoping that no one would be looking at this time of day, she hammered it into her front yard, so that the words "Sugartits' Residence" would be easily visible from both directions, then dashed back inside as quickly as she could. She hoped her Mistress would be satisfied with her work.

 She fixed herself a cup of tea, trying to steady her nerves. She wondered how many other of her Mistress' toys she would have to accommodate in her home. She considered making a shopping run to get enough groceries and bedding to deal with a sudden influx of guests, but then she remebered that she wasn't allowed to go anywhere anymore. She really wished that her Mistress had given her some reasonable idea of how many people she could expect to receive, so that she could be better prepared. She didn't even have her Mistress' phone number, so until she received the additional instructions she had been promised, she would have no way to call and request clarification. She decided to busy herself cleaning the kitchen and tidying up the guest bedroom. She put her clothes in the laundry hamper and stored her cellphone in the front pocket of her apron. She wondered if there was any point to doing laundry now, considering she no longer wore clothes. As the hours began to tick past, Mrs. Sugartits began to wonder if her Mistress might not have adequately considered the logistics of her situation.

 It was past noon when the first packages arrived. Mrs. Sugartits heard some activity at the front door and hurried to open it, thinking it might be the other toys it would now be her duty to care for. She blushed fiercely, only opening the door a crack and peeking out, trying to avoid being seen.

 Outside, a moving van had pulled up in front of the house, and a group of about a dozen woman where standing on her front lawn, holding large cardboard boxes. They were all dressed as cheerleaders, although no two of their uniforms were the same color. They appeared to range in age from early twenties to late fifties, so it was far-fetched to imagine they attended the same school. Even more strangely, several of the group were sucking on large pacifiers that matched their uniforms, and others had their hair in pigtails tied with oversized bows. Some wore long pleated skirts, others microskirts, and still others tight-fitting athletic shorts. Some uniforms had pluging necklines, others were cut more modestly. The only characteristic all the women seemed to share was a beaming smile. Mrs. Sugartits' gawked at the group.

 "Pardon us, Ma'am!" said a cheerleader who stood at the front of the group. She seemed to be in charge, although she was neither the oldest nor the youngest of the squad. "We're here to drop off these supplies for our wonderful Mistress' new toybox! Isn't it just a delight to serve our wonderful Mistress on this beautifuld day?" Her voice dripped with joy and enthusiasm. If she were being at all ironic, Mrs. Sugartits could not tell. By all appearances, she really was eager to obey her Mistress.

 Mrs. Sugartits felt herself blush down to the soles of her feet, both at the beaming expressions on the women's faces, but also at the fact that she was now required to open the door wide to admit her Mistress' servants, despite her current state of undress. "Oh, er, yes, do come in!"

 The cheerleaders carried their burdens in, one after the other. Mrs. Sugartits knew her duty, and greeted each and every one with a big hug and a kiss, which they accepted with a smile but without comment. Mrs. Sugartits was getting a lot more skin-on-skin contact than usual today, which she found both oddly pleasant and completely mortifying. Once each woman had deposited her box in the living room, she immediately ran out the door to the van to retrieve more. The larger boxes gradually gave way to smaller and smaller boxes, carried in stacks and piles. Of course, Mrs. Sugartits had to hug and kiss them each again every time they returned, so that she was stuck in a loop of hugging and kissing for several minutes as the boxes continued to pile up.

 Once she finally got a good look, she found that despite the different colors and styles, their uniforms actually matched in one sense. They each had the words "We Obey Samantha!" proudly emblazoned across the top. Mrs. Sugartits thought that she spotted something white and bulky hidden under a few of the shorter skirts among her guests, but she insisted to herself that she had only imagined it. Soon, the last stack of boxes was slid gently into place. "Farewell, Ma'am! We have more of our Mistress' wonderful orders to fulfill! Come along, sisters! March!" Mrs. Sugartits was somewhat relieved to find that they weren't staying. She would have been hard-pressed to find room for so many.

 The strange process merrily paraded out the door and loaded themselves into the van. Mrs. Sugartits gently closed the door as the van slid away. She wondered how many women this "Samantha" had claimed as her own. Even if she hadn't been fully aware that her Mistress controlled her life entirely, she would have known better than to mess with someone so powerful now. Someone who could take over other people's lives so easily might have whole armies at her disposal. Luckily, it wasn't a big deal, and there was nothing she could do about it anyway. She turned her attention to the supplies her Mistress had sent her.

 It was quite a job to get all the boxes open. Her spacious living room was soon crowded with empty cardboard boxes and hundreds of seemingly superfluous plastic cushions. By the time she had unpacked most of the larger boxes, flattened the cardboard, and popped the dozens of cushions, the sun was already beginning to set. Arranged in neat piles in her living room were a dozen inflatable plastic mattresses, blankets, pillows, nearly two hundred pounds of pretzel sticks, numerous cases of adult diapers, and many large bags of cat food. Mrs. Sugartits was particularly unsettled by the diapers, as they were decorated with colorful and extremely juvenile prints of cute animals, blocks, balloons, and pink hearts, despite being clearly sized for adults. She had never imagined that such obviously babyish products were being produced in such large sizes, particularly with such unflattering brand names as "Big Baby", "Forever Diapers", or "No More Potty". Surely there couldn't actually be a market for such bizarre and insulting creations, so they must be custom-made. This suggested that both her Mistress' reach and her desire to humiliate those in her power might be even greater than she had first imagined. She fondly hoped the diapers were not intended for her, although even that indignity might be preferable to a lifetime of displaying her bare cheeks to the world. The doorbell rang before she could start in on the many smaller boxes that her Mistress had apparently sent her. She opened the door carefully, seeing a tall, strongly-built woman in her late twenties.

 "Uh, hi. Is your name, like, Sugartits? Okay, cool. Sooo, Mistress says I'm supposed to, like, live here now?