This story was written by Joe Doe as a gift to Alec Leamus, who 
has permitted me to edit and post it here.





                           DEAR ALEC

                              by

                            Joe Doe


           A RECENT LETTER FROM A FRIEND IN THE ARMY 



Dear Alec,

I know we've been out of touch for quite a while, but I've got a 
problem that I hope you can advise me on.
  
Although my wife, Lisa, has her Master's degree in electrical 
engineering, the recent slowdown in the job market has made it 
difficult for her to find work.  Since I was going to be stationed 
overseas for the next few months, we decided that she should save 
money by getting rid of our apartment and moving in with my mother.

At first, Lisa wasn't too keen on the idea, since she has never 
gotten along well with Mom.  But, when my wealthy mother sweetened 
the deal by offering to help us out with the down payment on the 
house we've been saving for, the offer was too good to refuse.

I should take a moment to explain that Lisa is a slender, very 
pretty blonde, who stands barely 5 feet tall, while my mother is 
MUCH taller and quite stoutly built.  Lisa has always found my 
mother bossy and overbearing, but, since Mother is an expert money 
manager, my wife reluctantly agreed that my paychecks should be 
sent directly to my mother to help us save for the house.

The friction started almost immediately.  My mother declared that 
Lisa's stylish and fashionable clothes were much too dressy for 
"summer vacation" in her semi-rural neighborhood.  She immediately 
had all of Lisa's clothing and jewelry put into storage and dragged 
her off to the local Wal-Mart for more "appropriate" clothing.  
Lisa was horrified when she was marched her past the adult clothes 
and into the "Junior Miss" section of the store.
 
Lisa hated the cheap midriff-baring t-shirts and "day-of-the-week" 
underpants my mother bought her, but Mom insisted that the clothes 
were a bargain and buying more expensive things for "an unemployed 
underachiever" was simply wasteful.

My mother insisted that Lisa model every purchase, and soon began 
"saving time" by leaving the dressing room curtain open and even 
pulling my wife's clothing off out in the public areas of the 
store.  The chirpy 18-year-old clerk who was helping them offered 
no assistance and was clearly amused by Lisa's transformation from 
well-dressed executive to tarty teen.

Mother rolled right over Lisa's objections.  "I'm paying the bills, 
so I'll make the decisions!" she insisted as she handed my blushing 
wife a pair of cotton underpants (emblazoned with colorful balloons 
and clowns) and propelled her into the changing booth with a sharp 
slap across her posterior.  My wife's face turned crimson as she 
scurried into the dressing room while the bratty sales clerk 
tittered in amusement.

Lisa's Wonderbras were seized that day, and now she is forced to 
wear undershirts that totally flatten out her tiny chest.  When 
she complained, my mother's response was devastatingly brutal.  

"You simply don't have the figure for a bra, dear," she patronized. 
"Maybe we'll get you a training bra...in a few years...maybe."

Mother forced my educated and highly intelligent wife into a job in 
a burger joint at the mall.  And, since she works double shifts, 
she has no free time to look for another job.  Lisa is not allowed 
to use the telephone without permission, she has no more Internet 
access, and all of her technical and business journals have been 
cancelled.  Out of sheer intellectual desperation, she now finds 
herself reading "Seventeen" and the other teenybopper magazines my 
mother buys for her.

She finds her burger-flipping job humiliating and demeaning, and 
she detests Alan, her boss, a pimply-faced 19-year-old geek who 
calls her "shortcakes."  He blames her whenever anything goes 
wrong, and takes malicious delight in belittling her intellectual 
abilities and mocking her as a "blonde airhead" in front of the 
smirking customers.  

My mother has also arranged for Lisa to take a class in shorthand 
at a private school that is run by a friend of Mother's.  
Unfortunately for my wife, the school is a reformatory with a 
rather strict dress code, and my wife is forced to cycle across 
town every day in a blue blazer, white blouse, school tie, white 
knee high socks, and ultra-short plaid skirt.

When I saw the picture my mother sent me of Lisa in her new 
uniform, I understood why my wife hated it so.  She looks like 
a teenager again, especially since school regulations require 
her to keep her hair in pigtails.

To make matters worse, the school practices corporal punishment, 
and she has received several bare bottom paddlings from her 
lecherous shorthand teacher.  When she complained, Mother simply 
told her that she was in need of "consistent discipline, both at 
home and school."  The next day, Mother purchased a large razor 
strap, suitably engraved with "FOR LISA'S BARE FANNY."

My mother straps my wife's bare backside for every tiny infraction, 
and she has hung the strap in the entrance hall of the house.  She 
discusses Lisa's shameful bare-bottom discipline with everyone who 
visits the house, much to my wife's chagrin.  Every time the 
milkman sees her, he rubs his bottom and winces before giving 
her a knowing smile and a wink. 

No one seems to find her situation at all unusual.  Since she is 
always dressed in her school uniform, her burger-joint uniform, or 
the teasing, tarty clothes my mother picks out for her, no one even 
suspects that she isn't a teenager.  

Alan the geek knows how old she is, however, since my mother showed 
him my wife's social security card when she got the job.  He has 
taken advantage of her predicament by demanding sexual favors, and 
she is often herded into a corner and fondled.  When she complained 
to my mother, she was strapped for making up "childish stories" and 
being "disrespectful" to her boss. 

My mother now discusses Lisa's "behavior problems" with her boss on 
a weekly basis.  Since an unsatisfactory progress report from him 
means a spanking, my wife has been forced to submit to the lustful 
teenager's demands.  

My beautiful 28-year-old wife had tears in her eyes the first time 
she was forced to drop to her knees and service the leering high 
school drop-out.  He openly taunts her about her "overtime" in 
front of the other employees, and now everyone at the burger stand 
calls her "BJ."

Lisa finds her reduction in status and the loss of her adulthood 
deeply humiliating.  She recently was tossed out of a 7-11 because 
there were "too many kids in the store," and one night the police 
even picked her up for violating curfew.  Since my mother seized 
her purse shortly after her arrival, Lisa had no way of proving 
that she was an adult.  My mother decided to teach her a lesson by 
making her spend the night in Juvenile Hall and has even threatened 
to send her back there or to enroll her in the reformatory full 
time if she continues to question my mother's authority. 

I've repeatedly told Lisa that I'll be home soon to rescue her.  
But then I recently found out that I'm going to be stationed 
overseas for at least a year (maybe more).  

What should I tell my wife to do?

	-- Johnny  



Edited by C. Lakewood

