"Wow," aunt Valerie remarked, reading the reviews of my apologetic story posted her in giantessworld, "These people are MAD at you, Cale-- er-- I mean, sissy."

"Yes misstress," I replied, pushing the shallow tub of water to begin her pedicure. It's quite the challenge filling and delivering the tub at my height. "Truly the world knows how stupid I am."

"Oh my," Valerie noticed, "This TraciLynn user..." she chuckled, "Sorry, MISS Traci-- I like the way she thinks." I went to start scrubbing her feet until she put a finger up and the phone to her ear, "Hold on, Caleb."

I remained on my knees before her, waiting further instruction.

"Hey sis," Valerie started, greeting Heather I assumed, "Do you wanna go get a pedicure with me?" She looked down at me with a devious smile. "Yeah, I have him right here... Yeah... I know, I saw it too..." My heart raced at the possibile topics they discussed, "I hadn't read that one... You remember it okay?" There was a long pause before Valerie started laughing, "Oh my gosh! I love that! You want to...? Yeah? Perfect. We'll be right over."

The call ended. I felt her eyes on me but avoided any eye contact. I didn't want to, but could only imagine what their conversation entailed.

"Come with me, sissy," Valerie stood from her seat, "Clean up and get in the car. We're gonna have a little outing... with your mommy."

The overwhelming dread of what was to come never lifted the whole drive to Heather's. For those who don't know, there was a story in Natalie's tale, Terms & Conditions that centered around her (fictional, in that story) mother. Now for the sake of my embarrassment and further punishment, both Natalie's aunt and mother were going to put me through it, bringing this chapter of the deleted story to life.

We picked up Heather, who provided me with some clothes of Natalie's from when she was a child. At the very least, I was happy not to stand out like a sore thumb anymore, despite being dressed in outdated girl's clothes.

Valerie pulled into the mall, and turned her body to the backseat with Heather. Both women had an over-excited smile. I can't speak for Valerie, but I know Heather was excited to have a sweet, wholly devoted son at her side, ready for her beckon call.

"Well son," Heather started, "aren't you gonna get the door for your mommy and auntie?"

I answered how we went over on our way here; "Yes mommy, dearest," and hopped out of the backseat.

I let the ladies out, to which Valerie firmly grabbed my arm while Heather put a harness on me to keep me close by on an extendable leash.

This, to which I replied, "Thank you dearest mommy and auntie," like a good boy.

Heather pinched my cheeks and played with my hair a bit, "I can't believe this is really happening." Me neither. "This is going to be so much fun!" She brought her attention close to my face and spoke softly, "No be sure to be a good boy for mommy, and do everything she says," she slipped the key to my chastity device from her shirt, "And maybe you'll get a reward."

My heart pounded with intense lust over the key. Just a simple little silver key. I was so deep into my chastity that my mind was warped to find attraction in this key.

"Now," with a tug on my leash, and a smile towars Valerie, Heather directed, "let's go!"

We walked into the mall, instantly attracting the attention of the people around us. The snickers and stares belittled me further as I walked close between Heather and Valerie.

Our first stop was for some new shoes, of course. The ladies took a seat, and instantly started with the demands, first from Valerie; "Alright Caleb, go get your mommy and I a new pair of sexy high heels."

"Yes auntie, dearest," I obligied and went on my way to the heels. That is, until I remembered the story I wrote, having to get their shoe size first. I needed that measuring tool.

So I kept my eyes peeled for any strays shoe-sizers, hoping to avoid going out into the store's center where I knew they'd be. When my leash kept me from moving any further, I knew I had to turn back on the route where I found none, and bite the bullet to the stores center for one.

I approached tbe kiosk that displayed the sizers and took two. Much like the story, I was stopped by a worker; "Excuse me young man," the woman started, "only one per customer, please. Also, those are for women's feet!"

"I know," I said in a childlike tone. "It's for my mommy and auntie," I explained playing the part all too well, and pointing to my giddy captors.

The worker waved at them, and further explained to me, "I see. Well, if you don't mind with just the one. I'm sure your mommy and auntie wouldn't mind sharing."

I obliged and returned with the measuring tool. Thanks to my previous writing, I was more knowledgable when it came to shoe shopping. I started with my mommy-- er... Heather-- and removed her tennis shoe and sock. Before placing her bare foot on the device, I had to apply the nylon sock to keep her feet sanitary. On my knees before her, I placed the foot on my lap and reached for the nylon socks nearby.

"He's a natural," Valerie said.

"I know it," Heather said, snapping pictures of me, "Natalie has him well-trained."

As correct as she was, my swiftness was solely to get this over with and get home. I measured her massive foot; 12.5 Wide.

I moved on to Valerie, who wore long leather boots. She leaned over to Heather and whispered something, to which Heather then started taking video of me, and commanded, "Okay son, take off your aunt Val's boot for her." She caught footage of gawkers nearby, watching this son so obediently listen to his mother.

Why she wanted to film it was beyond me until I started unzipping, and the instant boot-stench took over my world. The ladies caught further attention in their laughter at my grimacing face.

"What's the matter, honey?" Valerie started, loudly, "Are aunt Val's feet stinky?"

They were. And it was so unbelievably noticeable. This had to have been the boots, as her feet were fine when I was going to give her a pedicure earlier.

A worker walked by after noticing the smell, "Hi ma'am," the young lady started, "I couldn't help but notice you mention the smell of your boots," she so politely ignored the smell, "Might I offer you this odor exterminating powder for your shoes?"

"Oh no," Heather interjected  "That won't be necessary." I feared where this was going. "My little boy here is a pro at getting the stench out of our shoes, aren't you honey?"

I only nodded my head yes, silently.

"Go ahead and show the nice lady how you do it," Valerie requested, right in front of the worker.

I wasn't sure what they were getting at until I realized how I primarily suck the smell from Natalie's footwear. I held back my cringe at the idea of what these women wanted to put me through.

"Go ahead, sweetie," Heather started, "show the nice lady how good you are at getting the smell out of mommy and aunt Val's shoes."

The worker was far too attentive-- curious most likely. I put my head over the hole of the rancid boot and inhaled.

Valerie gave further direction, "You might have to get seeper in there, Caleb."

Of course, I listened, and pressed my face deep into the boot. At my size, and to my misfortune, I fit pretty well, able to reach my body nearly to the bottom.

"Wow," the worker looked amazed and disgusted, "He seems to... really like doing that..." I did not.

"Oh yes," Heather lied, "he loves it! I catch him taking whiffs after I walk away when I've just kicked my shoes off after work."

"He's sweet," Valerie cooed as my head popped out of her nasty boot, the world around us a bit less smelly because of me.

"That's cute," the coworker responded, unsure of how to really react. "If you need anything else... uh... let me know."

"You got it!" Valerie said as the woman walked away, then turning to her sister asking, "Did you get all that?"

Heather was holding back her laughter, "I never stopped filming!" The women laughed at the proof of my public humiliation.

I measured Valerie's shoe size; 9, and stood to attention, still reluctantly playing the part as their sweet subserviant son/nephew. "What kind of high heels do you want?"

They didn't care, "Something you think will look sexy on mommy and auntie's feet, son," Heather answered innapproriate in her volume.

I took to the heels, finding the first heels in their sizes I could find. I didn't want to think of them as "sexy," so finding a pair that fit their criteria was a challenge.

Two boxes covered my line of sight at my size, and I tripped just as I approached the women.

They held back their laughter as an an onlooker asked, "Are you okay?" Heels scattered about before me, between me and my destination. Of course the good-intentioned onlooker asked, "What are you doing with women's shoes, kid?"

"Th-" Heather and Valerie watched in anticipation as I answered, "They're for my aunt and mommy, over there."

I stood and frantically cleaned up my mess, stammering over to the eager women. The onlooker stuck around ans watched me place the open-toed gray wedge on Heather's foot. They went back to their shopping in disgust. On Valerie's foot, I placed a black strap stilletto.

"Wow, Caleb," Valerie sung, "these are some pretty nice shoes you picked."

"I think I like yours better, Val," Heather stated.

"I actually like yours a lot too," Valerie agreed.

The women turned to me and stared, waiting for me to respond; "Want me to go get you the right sizes, mommy?"

"That'd be great, son," Heather leaned back and presented her foot, "Go ahead and take these shoes off of mommy and aunt Val's feet, and go get us the right sizes."

"Yes mommy, dearest." I obeyed and pulled their shoes off in front to everybody, and placed them in their correct boxes.

To and fro I went, fetching, putting back, resizing, switching out pair after pair of heels, sandals, slip-ons, tennis shoes, boots... and so on. The women had the time of their life pretending I was their little momma's boy, so eager to please her and his auntie however they wanted.

The bags were handed to me, as Heather finished paying and moved over when the clerk handed them off. There I stood at the counter to take these bags of shoes. Heather and Valeries were already pretty fair ahead of me. I felt the pull of the leash as my tiny legs tried to keep up leaving the counter.

To complete the task Valerie initially hired me for, and to recreate the story Heather so eagerly wanted to put me through, the women booked a pedicure appointment. I stood at my "mommy's" side as she sat in the salon chair, and waited for the cringing inevitable.

"Hi ladies," he pedicurist started, "And who do we have here with us today?" The woman looked at me with such friendly eyes. It made me feel sick convincing this woman I was a child.

"This is my son, Caleb," Heather explained, "We're having a bit of a auntie/mother/son day."

"Ohhh, that sounds nice," he nail tech said, "I'm just impressed your mom convinced you to come with her to get a pedicure!"

"Actually," here we go, "my son here wanted to know if you would show him how it's done."

"Really?" the lady beamed with excitement, "Oh my gosh, I would just love to! You want to give your mommy a pedicure?"

I had to keep up my act if I ever wanted out of this cock cage, so I answered, "Yes ma'am."

"Isn't that so precious?" Valerie asked.

"That is!" the tech answered, "How did mommy and auntie get so lucky to have a boy like you, hm?"

"Well," Heather began, "funny you should ask; my son here is mommy's personal assistant."

"Oooh," he lady cooed, "a little employee here at such a young age! "

"That's right," Valerie continued, "He wrote up his own little contract of employment, didn't he sis?"

"Mhm, yup. Caleb here was so eager to become mommy's personal assistant."

"Well," the nail tech started, "Why don't you come on down here and I'll shoe you the ropes on your aunt, you take your mom."

I hesitated until Heather gave a subtle tug on my leash, directing me to the washbin at her feet.

"So first," the tech said, "we're gonna give your mom a foot massage. You ever massage your mommy's feet for her as her personal assistant?"

"Oh yes," Heather answered for me, "Every single day, believe it or not!"

"Every day?!" the tech seemed flabbergasted.

"It's about the only thing he wants to do when comes and visits his auntie," Valerie added.

"What good little boy you have here," the nail tech complimented, "I may have to steal him for myself."

They all shared a hearty laugh, catching the ears and eyes of passersby who turned to see a "little boy" at the feet of his "mommy."

So I massaged away at my mommy's feet, who didn't hesitate to take plenty of pictures and video.

"So what'd your little contract entail as your mom's personal assistant?"

I didn't know how to answer. Audible "Uhh..."s made Heather chime in.

"He's a little shy," she said to the nail tech. "For starters, he cooks, cleans, does all my laundry, yard work..."

"Oh wow, that sounds like a lot responsibility," the tech looked to me in her statement.

"Could you believe she doesn't even give him allowance?" Valerie chimed.

"He told me not to!" Heather explained in her lie, "It's in the contract!"

"That's so amazing," the nail tech cooed as she directed me on caring for cuticles.

"He even wanted a uniform for his new position," Heather added to my pile of embarrassment.

"What kind of uniform did you want?" the tech asked.

I turned bright red as Heather didn't even try to whisper, "He wanted to dress as a maid, believe it or not!"

"A maid?!" The tech didn't help. Heather confirmed it right then and there.

"Isn't there a costume shoppe in the mall somewhere?" Valerie asked.

"Oh yeah," the nail tech confirmed. "You can probably get costumes for cheap right now, out of season."

"Really?" both my caretakers deviously replied. "We'll have to go check that out," said Heather. I shivered at how much this played out similarily to Terms & Conditions, and dreaded the awfully humiliating costume shop scene.

The nail tech walked me through all the steps to a good pedicure-- nothing I didn't already know. I could give a pedicure at two inches tall. I give them weekly for MY goddess wife.

"How about you go pick out a nice color for your mommy and auntie?" the nail tech directed.

The kind woman directed me to the glass counter where a diconnected college student worked the counter, chewing gum and flipping through a magazine.

"Hey, Dolly," the nail tech caught the girl's attention, "this little boy here would like to pick out a color to paint his mommy and auntie's toes with." She was so direct and clear in her request.

Dolly, the clerk, leaned over the counter to see me. She chortled at my height and demeaning request. "Okay momma's boy," she said without a mocking tone (though I still felt it), "What color do you want?"

I stammered and turned to Heather and Valerie, seated and waiting, "What color do you want?"

"What was that?" Heather responded with her eyes expecting more.

I knew what she wanted me to say; "Wh-what color do you want... mommy, dearest?"

The clerk could hardly contain her laughter, that bottled up hilarity only filling more when Heather answered, "Pick one that you think will look sexy with the shoes you picked our for aunt Val and I!" She was well aware of her choice of words.

A lump in my throat housed further humiliation, as I stuttered picking, "Th-that one," with my finger on the glass.

"Which one?" Dolly responded, keeping her composure.

"Th-that..." I had to actually decide; the color nearest to my finger being, "p-purple one?"

"What was that?" Dolly continued, mocking me, "You want to paint your mom's toes purple?"

I could tell she was just making fun of me, but for the sake of Heather and Valerie's amusment, and for the sake of my release from chastity, I played along, "Ye-yes ma'am. And my aunt- m-my auntie's."

The clerk took the purple nail polish from the cabinet and handed it off to me, "Here you go, momma's boy."

"Than- Thank you, ma-am," I said giving a mild bow and promptly returning to Heather's feet.

The nail technician walked me through this knowledge of painting nails that I was already a professional at, given my years serving my one TRUE goddess, Natalie. Dolly took a few pictures of me debasing myself in public before ending her shift. Thank god she was gone.

I finished both Heather and Valerie's pedicure-- clear coat and all, in an impressive time in my "mentor's" eyes. "You should take MY job!" the tech teased, "You're a natural!"

Heather and Valerie laughed, "Don't think so," Heather explained, "Caleb said he wants to be mommy's personal assistant forever and ever." She caressed my arm and looked me deep in my uncomfortable eyes.

"For the rest of your life," Valerie added, "Right, Caleb?"

I held back a deep sigh and responded, "Yes auntie, dearest."

The three women cooed at my maternal loyalty.

"Now," Heather added, "how about you blow on mommy and auntie's toes so they dry off quicker, and we can get some lunch before we go to the costume shop to get you your own little maid uniform?"

She sounded far too excited, but I was expected to match it, promptly taking to my knees at the ladie's feet, and gently blowing on the wet polish on their toes.

"See how eager he is?" Valerie pointed out to the nail tech.

"That's so sweet," the tech cooed, "I'll give knock half off of this appointment, since mommy's little personal assistant took care of half the work for me."

"Well we very much appreciate that, thank you!" Heather responded with such gratitude. "Maybe we can send him back to give YOU a pedicure as thanks!"

"Oooh," the nail tech teased as she rung up our bill, "that sounds nice! I'll have to give your mom a call to book you for your services."

And with that, Heather really shared her number with this woman, no doubt to find a time I might come and humiliate myself further.

We took to the food court where, much to my dismay, I received no food-- already missing lunch for this outing when Natalie penciled Valerie's pedicure into my schedule over my lunch break. The ladies ate and had me sit on the ground at their feet, giving my aunt Valerie a foot massage for the public to see.

"You want a bite?" Valerie offered.

To which I ecstatically replied, "Yes auntie, dearest!"

She picked me up and set me on her lap-- not quite what I was expecting-- and proceeded to spoon feed me her soup she ordered.

"There," Valerie spoke softly, "that's a good boy. Eat up." I took another bite she offered, "Now what do you say?"

"Thank you auntie, dearest."

"Good boy," she responded.

"That won't fill him up, Val," Heather remarked, "You need some of what mommy has, don't you son?"

Any offer for more food was met with a yes from me. Heather directed me to her lap, and I excitedly opened up for a bite.

"No, no, dear," she said, stopping my eager streak. "You don't get to eat mommy's food," she opened up her blouse to take her breast out... in public... catching everybody's attention, "You want some of mommy's milk, don't you?"

To my surprise and horror, nobody stopped her from revealing her bare breast to the food court. I'm sure they knew what this motherly woman was up to, so they found it best not to intervene.

But as the number of watchful eyes increased on us, I knew I had to take action fast before somebody approached us. No doubt I'd be punished severely if Heather's plan to further my humiliation was squandered. So I closed my eyes, pretended nobody was around, and wrapped my little lips around her tit.

"That's a good boy," Heather cooed, petting my hair and caressing me like a baby, "Suckle mommy's nipple and get that sweet, delicious milk."

Valerie kept her composure, holding back her laughter as I sucke away at Heather's breast. She took her phone out to collect some evidence of my public humiliation, being breastfed in public like a baby-- a child rather, visibly too old to be breastfeeding. The act added to the ruse I put on for the world to appear as Heather's good, obedient, loyal, little momma's boy.

To my dismay, we were approached by an all-too-curious onlooker. "Excuse me," the woman sheepishly opened with, "Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help but notice how obedient you have your son. You must be a fantastic mother to have your son act so well behaved in public!"

Heather blushed at her compliment, "Thank you, ma'am." She turned slightly to reveal me to the woman as I pretended to breast feed. "Look Caleb," she said as she looked down at me against her bosom, "this nice woman said you're well-behaved. What do you say?"

I popped my mouth off of Heather's nipple, only for a second to respond, "Thank you, ma'am," then get back to sucking Heather's breast.

"I have to ask," the curious woman prodded, "how did you raise your boy to be so obedient? Mine's a nightmare!" she laughed, somewhat fake.

Heather looked at Valerie and smiled, both devious in their expressions. She waved the woman to come closer for a secret, and told her, "Chastity," blunt, and straight forward.

"Really?!" the lady barked in shock.

"Oh yeah," Heather explained further, "If you lock 'em up down there," her finger tapped the prison my dick stayed trapped in, making two audible taps for the woman to hear, "they're yours."

"You don't say," the woman said, finger to her chin, legitimately considering putting her son into chastity.

"It's true," Valerie added, "He was a little troublemaker before she locked up his little..." she caught herself before saying anything too outloud in a public setting, "well you know," and laughed. "Caleb here is quick to do whatever it takes for us to unlock him."

"Oh, I bet, " the lady agreed.

"The hard part was getting it on him," Heather noted.

"Nothing a bit of Benadryl didn't solve!" Valerie added.

The three women laughed at my situation.

"I'll definitely have to try that out on my son," the woman said.

"I'd definitely reccommend," Heather said as she slipped the key around her neck out from her shirt, "Little Caleb here would do anything to have momma's key to his weewee, wouldn't he?"

I wanted to tear up, but kept my composure. The mocking and restraint on my member really began taking a toll on me. As much as I love obeying my wife, my only freedom being through obedience is not ideal.

The curious onlooker continued her trip, leaving us to head over to the costune shop I so dreaded. I followed Heather and Valerie into the store with their bags of shoes in my arms.

I was alarmed to find the clerk not paying attention when she first asked "Can I help you?" looking down at her magazine.

It was Dolly from the nail salon, working a second job here at this costume shop. Great.

Heather and Valerie nudged me to the counter, "Go ahead sweetie," Heather pushed, "Ask the nice lady what you want."

When I entered Dolly's line of sight, her eyes went wide and her lungs held back laughter. That laughter seeped out just a hair when I asked, "I... I'm l-looking for a-a m-maid's costume."

"Is that so?" Dolly remarked.

"Well," Valerie felt the need to add, "uniform would be a better description. He won't be wearing it as a costume."

"No?" Dolly questioned, short in her response as she held back her laughter.

"No, no," Heather explained, "little Caleb here signed up to be mommy's personal assistant. And part of his contract states that he has to wear a maid dress as his uniform."

Dolly teared up at then hilarity of the unbelievable situation, "Is... is that just when he's on the clock?"

"Well I'm not sure," Heather remarked, turning her attention to me, "What did you mean when you wrote it into the contract sweetie?"

I stood there unsure of how to answer. This whole thing was a lie anyway. Couldn't I just answer how I wanted instead of how I KNEW she wanted me to?

I took too long to answer, so Valerie chimed, "I don't think there's much 'clocking out' for personal assistants, is there?"

"Oh!" Heather agreed, "Y'know I think you're right. Maybe he should get a few for the week."

"I mean," Valerie continued, "it only makes sense to have him in uniform at ALL TIMES if the woman he 'personally assists' is his own mother, right?"

"Yeah, you make a good point," Dolly added, "I think we might have a good selection for your little assistant to choose from."

From there, Dolly excitedly guided us through the aisles of costumes. She took us from the cheaper section and brought us to the back, where a wide variety of high quality costumes-- er-- uniforms could be found.

"Well kid," Dolly presented the selection to us in the women's aisle of the store, "take your pick."

"I think," Heather interrupted, "I should be the one who picks. After all, I AM your boss, right son?"

And of course, I answered, "Yes mommy, dearest," like a good little boy.

I took a seat in my assigned waiting room, leash connected to something outside of it, while the three ladies took their picks for cute little maid outfits for me to wear. I heard the clerk, Dolly, say something about make up, so I assumed to have that become a part of my getup. No wigs, according to Heather, who said, "He still wants to be a boy." Such a minute, yet significant addition to my embarrassment; showing the world that I am indeed a boy dressed as a girl.

Heather and Valerie came in the fitting room with hangers of maid dresses filling their hands-- enough selections to curtain a whole house.

"I'll pick out some nice makeup for him," Dolly announced from outside my fitting room.

The ladies hung the dresses on the walls around me, closed, and locked the door with a devious smile, commanding only one word from Heather; "Strip."

Hands shaky, I took my clothes off to let these women have their way with dressing me. Upwards of twenty dresses were forced onto me, birthing opinions from the women to decide my wardrobe;

"Too long."

"Not frilly enough."

"Not girly enough."

"Don't like the headpiece."

"TECHNICALLY too short," pertaining to a dress that didn't even cover my chastity device.

"Try these heels with that one."

"Keep the apron."

"Love it."

"Hate it."

"Perfect..." in regards to the uniform I would wear out.

I emerged from my borrowed closet in a bright pastel yellow short-skirt maid's dress with a petticoat underneath to puff the skirt out more, donned with a frilly white apron centered with a pink heart embroidered at the chest, topped with a headband carrying an outlandish matching bow on my head.

"Well?" Valerie sought the approval of the store clerk, Dolly.

"I love it," she answered, hand on her mouth to hold her laughter. "Mind if I make an addition? Free of charge?"

"Absolutely!" Heather obliged, without my approval of course.

Dolly took the apron to sew a message for me to display to the world:

MOMMY'S
LITTLE
MAID BOY

Just another indication to the world that, yes, I AM a boy, dressed as a maid... a maid for his mother.

"Perfect!" Heather shouted upon the final knot tied to my back by Dolly.

"Now..." Dolly approached as Valerie set a chair behind me, pushing me into it and raising it far too high for me to comfortably jump off of, "Hold still," and began applying foundation to my vulnerable face.

"More blush," Heather suggested.

"Yeah," Valerie agreed, "Some nice rosy cheeks that just POP!"

"Good idea," Dolly agreed, applying enough blush to add to, yet hide my humiliation. "And now," a stick of deep, bright red lipstick pointed at me and approached, "the finishing touch."

"Ohmygosh," Dolly took her phone out from her jeans' back pocket, "I NEED to get a picture of this. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Heather obliged as she and Valerie took their phones out too, "Let's have a little photoshoot."

This photoshoot took place in the display window of the costume shop-- per Dolly's suggestion and approval, having ME-- the little two-foot tall girly maid-boy-- maneuver the adult-sized mannequin off to the side.

And there I stood, for all of the mall to see, at a window specifically designed to be the focal point of the costume store. Of course, in that half an hour photo shoot, I became the spokesperson-- the face of this costume shop... "So give it your all," Dolly commanded, in a serious tone.

My stock pile of model poses lacked in my mind. The ladies had to demand-- er-- suggest different poses for me:

"Over the shoulder."

"Use your hands."

"Up against the wall."

"Hands on your hips."

"Pouty."

"Poutier!"

"Smile."

And they closed our photo-op with one last example of my obedience to my "mother." Heather stood with me in the display window and presented her foot to me in the new pair of heels she bought. "Let's see how well that lipstick stays on. Go ahead, Caleb. Show these nice people how you greet your mommy."

I looked around to see all the cameras and eyes on me-- not only from the store, but from onlookers holding up their phones outside the glass. Of course, with all this evidence to reach Natalie, I obeyed, "Yes mommy, dearest," and lowered myself to my knees to kiss her feet.

"Look at that!" Valerie pointed out Heather's kissed foot, "No lipstick stains!"

"Only the best," Dolly said.

This was our last stop at the mall, though Heather and Valerie were eager to parade me around; her little loyal maid of a son, leashed to his mother to run to her side for any beckoned call. Of course, I walked in front as they filmed and took photos of me out in public. Occasionally I'd hear, "Oh son!" from behind, prompting my usual reply for everybody to hear:

"Yes mommy, dearest."