Vincent's New Mom

Vincent's New Mom (version 2)

By Masked Man

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Feedback: maskedmanwriter@gmail.com

INTRO/ BACKGROUND:

This is the same story as version 1, is not a sequel, but if you enjoyed the first version you surely might enjoy this one, is the same plot, same ideas but different phrases, dialogues and slightly different.

SIDE NOTE: this was not written by me, I hired a writer, but the plot and ideas were 100% mine, however the writer put ideas and phrases but it was almost ghost writing, English is not my first language but fear not, this is well written and the guy did an excellent job.

CHAPTER 1

Late afternoon sunlight slanted in through the blinds, marking bright stripes across the living room's rust-colored shag carpeting. Vincent lay on his belly in the sunbeam, paging through a new comic book he'd just bought with this week's allowance. He could hear his new stepsister, Anna-maria, giggling down the hall as she played in her room. At least, he hoped she was in her own room and not messing around in his. He'd gotten so used to growing up as an only child that it was still strange to have someone suddenly touching his stuff and invading his privacy. He would have messed with her belongings right back, hidden her books or cut her dolls' hair, but Vincent knew how hard his father was working to blend their families smoothly together, and he didn't want to cause any unnecessary tension. Plus, because she was a few years younger, and a girl, she could get away with a lot more mischief than him. He was supposed to be helpful and obedient, and serve as a good example.

His father and stepmother, Yolanda, sat together on the couch against the wall, listening as the last verse of “Hotel California” faded into a commercial block. They rested with their fingers twined together, light against dark, and Yolanda had leaned her head against her new husband's shoulder and closed her eyes. She was a large woman, much stronger and sturdier than Vincent's mother had been.

His father shifted on the couch, drawing the room's attention, then turned his wrist to look at his watch. He frowned before leaning over to kiss Yolanda's cinnamon-colored cheek. “Sorry my love, but I have to stop in at the office for a while before we go out to celebrate my raise. I'll meet you at the restaurant at eight, okay? 'Til then, you'll have to look after the kids.” He stood and looked down at Vincent, lying there on the rug. “But I'm sure you won't have any trouble. Especially not from Vincent, right?”

Vincent shook his head, craning his neck back to meet his father's gaze. “No sir.”

His father turned to look over his shoulder at Yolanda. “I'm sure he'll be fine. But if he does get out of line,” his voice grew more stern. “Then you have my permission to give him a good spanking.”

Vincent tensed at those words, and couldn't help but imagine the feel of a hand coming down hard on his backside. His stomach clenched at the thought of getting into trouble with his stepmother, delicate as their brand new life together was. He shook his head again.

Yolanda stretched. “Believe me, mi corazon, I have no problem punishing a child when they've been naughty. Just ask Anna.” She smiled, but her tone stayed very matter-of-fact. “I can be very tough, and will not hesitate to spank Vincent if he misbehaves even a little bit.”

Vincent sat upright. “You won't need to.” He looked at his father. “I'll be really good.” He squirmed a little on the carpet, made nervous by the conversation.

His father lifted an eyebrow and raised his hand. “Swear to me you'll behave for Yolanda.”

Vincent brought his hand up to mirror the gesture. “I swear.” Behind his father's back, he could see the corners of Yolanda's lips curl up into a smile.

“Repeat after me,” his father instructed.

Vincent sat up a little straighter, keeping his hand raised and eyes locked on his dad.

“I will be a good boy.”

“I will be a good boy,” he echoed, feeling a little heat growing in his cheeks at being talked to like a baby. He was ten and a half, not a little kid like Anna-maria.

“And I will be very obedient to Yolanda, no matter what.”

Vincent repeated the promise back to his father, who smiled down at him with bright blue eyes, the same color as Vincent's own.

“That's my boy,” he said, reaching down to tousle Vincent's dark hair.

A little while after his father left for the office, Vincent grew tired of reading and eager to do just about anything else. He got up and stretched, then started for the door.

Yolanda watched him like a cat. “Where do you think you are going?”

“Outside.” He froze, then slowly turned to face her. “I mean, may I go outside to play with my friends, please?”

She pursed her lips and waited a moment before answering, giving Vincent just enough time to think she was going to say no, and he'd have to go back to his comic or do some homework.

“Si,” she finally said. “You can go out and play, since you asked so nicely. But don't get too dirty. We have reservations at a nice restaurant, and you can't show up all sweaty and gross.”

Vincent grinned and agreed, then bolted out the door.

He came back in about an hour later, when the sun started to set. Their neighborhood was small and almost rural, and the streetlights were few and far between. He'd been riding his bike with the next door neighbor, because the older boys who were already in high school had refused to let them join their touch football game. When he came into the house, Yolanda stopped to look at him, eyes narrowed. He felt the sweat start to cool on his brow. Was he in trouble?

Yolanda planted a firm hand on her hip. “What did I tell you before you went out to play?”

Vincent rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the streaks of dirt on his arms and shirt. “You told me not to get dirty.”

“Si, I did. But here you are, all sweaty and dusty.” She came forward with a sigh and touched his shoulder.

For a second, Vincent was sure she was going to spin him around and spank him, but she didn't. Instead, she said, “Go to the bathroom and strip those filthy clothes off. We can't celebrate your padre's raise with you looking like this. Go on, I'm going to give you a bath.”

Vincent's mouth dropped open. “You what?”

Yolanda frowned. “Didn't your madre give you baths?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, feeling helpless. “Well, yeah, when I was a baby, I guess. But-”

She waved a hand in the air. “You're still a baby, and I bathe Anna all the time. It's all the same to a mother. Besides,” her face grew stern. “You swore to your father that you would obey me, and you know the consequences if you don't.” She raised a hand like she was about to swat his backside. “March, mister. Into the tub.”

Vincent slumped his shoulders and stamped his foot, but she was right. He had promised, and there was no going back now.

CHAPTER 2

Vincent stomped into the bathroom and turned on the water. He hurried to fill the tub with water and soap, peeled off his clothes, then hopped in. He quickly dunked his head underwater, then sat up and began rubbing soap bubbles over his face and neck. He'd closed the door almost all the way when he entered the bathroom, and as Vincent sat there in the tub of warm water, he let out a sigh of relief. It looked like Yolanda had gotten distracted, or perhaps she'd changed her mind and would let him bathe by himself. As he thought about it, Vincent realized he should probably get up and close the door all the way, just in case Anna-maria wandered by and was curious. He couldn't think of anything more embarrassing than for his new stepsister to catch sight of him without any clothes on. He had just stood up and was about to ease a leg over the side of the tub when a brown, long-fingered hand curled around the edge of the door and pushed it in.

Vincent's heart sank, and he immediately dropped back down into the bathwater. He gathered some of the soap bubbles together on the water's surface, trying to build a little shield to protect his privacy.

Yolanda stood over him in her nice purple dress, smirking at his pathetic attempt to preserve his soapy modesty. She picked up a washcloth and carefully seated herself on the dry edge of the bath tub. “You're so silly, acting like you've never had a bath before. How am I supposed to wash you if you're sitting?”

The boy's eyes widened, and he felt butterflies spring up in his stomach. He just stared at her for a moment, until her voice hardened, and she ordered him to stand up.

Carefully, so as not to slip in the wet, soapy bathtub, Vincent obeyed, as he had agreed to. He immediately cupped his hands over his privates, and the chill of the air on his wet skin battled with the heat of his furious blush.

Yolanda clucked her tongue at his huddled posture. “I can't believe how shy you are.” She started washing the dirt off his ankles with the rough washcloth. “And how pale you are. It's cute!” She laughed quietly to herself. “I've made whipped cream with more of a tan! Look at this.” She splayed her hand in front of his legs, comparing their dramatically different skin tones. “We are like cafe and crema, you and I.”

Vincent looked down when she told him to, but said nothing, silently praying for her to hurry and get the bath over with as soon as possible.

She started washing his calves, then looked up at his flushed face. “Dios mio, pale everywhere but your cheeks. They look like bright little apples!” She went back to washing his legs, moving closer to the knees. “So embarrassed. It's cute though, and it's okay. It's fine for me to bathe you, I am your madre now.”

Even though she said it was okay, that didn't do anything to make Vincent feel less nervous or humiliated, and he didn't feel his cheeks getting any cooler. He wished there was another washcloth available, so he could take over and get the bath done faster. Or so he cover his face so she couldn't see him blush anymore.

She was up to his thighs now. “I don't understand why you always wear long pants, either. That's why your skin's so pale, you never let the sun get near you!” She scrubbed along the back of his thigh, and though it tickled, Vincent struggled to hold still. “I think you'd look better in shorts. And you'll be happier in shorts, they're easier to run and play in.” She scrubbed harder at a spot just inside his right thigh. “Though, playing in shorts will probably get you even dirtier than you already are. I'll tell your father to buy you a couple pairs the next time we go shopping.”

The rough washcloth worked its way up to his backside, over and between his cheeks, making his face feel even hotter.

“I may not have had a son before, but I have been around enough boys to know that their good behavior never lasts,” Yolanda said as she continued washing his bottom. “Boys will be boys, after all. Sooner or later, I'm sure you're going to slip up, and when you do, you're going to get it.” She shook her head a little, smiling. “I'll spank you hard if I have to, and it will be severe because that's the only way naughty boys learn.”

The washcloth came around to his front, and ran into his clasped hands. Yolanda frowned and tapped her finger on the back of his wrist. “Knock knock, open up.”

Vincent shook his head and made a little noise in his throat, a moan of shy protest.

His stepmother grew more serious. “I mean it now, open up this little clam shell you've made. I need to wash everywhere or you won't be clean. I mean it, Vincent. You don't want to get in trouble, do you?”

With a little sigh, the boy opened his hands.

“There, see? That wasn't so hard. I don't know why you were guarding it so fiercely. No pearl in that clam shell, just a little weenie.” She moved the washcloth up and began to wash his privates. “A bit tiny for your age I guess, but that's okay, you're still growing.”

Vincent, his hands no longer by his waist, brought one up to shield his burning face. He couldn't believe this was happening.

“Still, it's important to keep yourself nice and clean, no matter how little your weenie may be. It's no problem, I am your madre now, after all.” Yolanda washed every inch of him thoroughly, scrubbing him mercilessly, almost raw, telling him all the while that it was her duty to look after him now, and to ensure that he was always clean and healthy.

Vincent wished he could plop back into the bathwater and hide, but he knew that would splash cloudy water on his stepmother's pretty dress and probably earn him a spanking.

“There,” Yolanda declared at last. “All clean.” She grabbed a towel and held it out.

Grateful that his humiliating bath was finally over, Vincent reached for it, but before he could grab the towel for himself, his stepmother rolled him up in it and picked him up as easily as if he were a baby. She carried him out of the bathroom and down the hall to his bedroom.

Vincent was shocked, first that she was strong enough to carry him like that, something his mother couldn't have managed, and second to find himself carted along like a child who wasn't old enough to walk on his own. He wanted to tell her he was too old to be carried this way, but Vincent's natural shyness overruled him, and besides, he couldn't afford to get in any more trouble.

CHAPTER 3

When they got into Vincent's room, Yolanda deposited the towel-wrapped boy on his bed and began to slowly dry him.

Vincent clenched his teeth at first, expecting her to towel him off quickly and then the nightmare would be over. But when he glanced over his stepmother's shoulder, Vincent saw with dawning horror that she had left the bedroom door wide open. He started to say something, to try to point out that she'd left him exposed with his new stepsister still playing somewhere in the house, but she raised the towel up to dry his hair, rubbing the cloth all over his head. When she pulled it away, Vincent saw that his worst fear had come true. Anna-maria stood right there in the doorway, watching them intently.

Yolanda must have seen the horrified expression on his face, because she turned to follow his gaze. Vincent was sure she would scold Anna-maria for snooping and send her away, but Yolanda turned back to continue drying him without saying a word. In fact, she took two little steps to the right, so her body was no longer blocking his.

Vincent locked eyes with his new stepsister and shook his head, then gestured with his chin for her to go away. It was bad enough having Yolanda dry him so roughly, treating him like he was one of Anna-maria's rag dolls. The last thing he needed (or wanted) was another witness.

Anna-maria saw his signals, but she didn't follow them. Instead she crossed her arms, smirked, and didn't move from her spot.

Yolanda frowned at him. “Hold still. And quit shaking your head around like that, for goodness sake.”

Vincent felt himself blush, and hung his head, thinking that this had to be the most humiliating day of his life. He kept twisting around as Yolanda dried him, trying his best to hide his privates from his stepsister, but it seemed like every time he twisted one way, Yolanda and the rough towel would turn him right back again.

After a moment, Yolanda let out a loud, frustrated sigh. “I am getting so tired of you squirming and covering yourself so much. You're making this whole process twice as difficult as it should be.” Her broad palm swatted his naked bottom three times, not too hard, but firmly enough to tingle and make him feel thoroughly chastised. “And that's just a warning.” She shook her finger at him. “If you don't start cooperating, and behave like you promised your father you would, I'll have no choice but to bend you over my knees and spank you until your butt cheeks are as pink as your face.”

The poor shy boy blushed even more.

From the doorway, Anna-maria giggled. “Look how round his bottom is! It looks like two vanilla cupcakes without icing.”

No matter what he did, Vincent could feel her little eyes on him, and there was nowhere to hide.

“You're so white!” she exclaimed. “Like a marshmallow. Or a ghost.” She laughed again. “You don't even need a Halloween costume, you could just go trick-or-treating like this!”

As humiliating as this was, Vincent was at least grateful that they were inside, where only his new family could see him.

As she stared at his exposed body, his new stepsister fiddled with the sleeves of her striped shirt and moved side to side in a little dance, making her skirt swish against her brown legs, almost as if she were teasing him without any words, rubbing his nose in the fact that she was dressed and he was not. Anna-maria giggled some more, as if seeing her stepbrother naked was the funniest thing in the world. “Look how much he blushes, too! He's so shy, I bet he wishes he could just turn invisible or fly away like in his comic books.”

“Maybe so,” Yolanda replied, “But that's too bad.” She looked directly at Vincent, who had been avoiding eye contact with her since she'd slapped his rear end. “Because he's not going anywhere, isn't that right?”

He forced himself to meet her gaze and meekly shook his head. There was nowhere to go, anyway. This was his room. His sanctuary.

She gave a decisive nod. “That's right. I do, after all, have your father's permission to spank you hard if you step a toe out of line.”

Vincent lowered his eyes again and nodded miserably.

Yolanda turned him so he fully faced the door, the started drying the insides of his thighs, pushing his feet apart so he stood bowlegged, like a naked cowboy.

Vincent closed his eyes with a little groan, wondering how much longer this could possibly go on. She seemed to really be taking her time as she dabbed up and wiped away every drop of moisture between his legs and along his thighs. When he opened his eyes again, Anna-maria's smirk was wider than ever. His new stepsister's eyes roved over every part of him, and he didn't dare bring his hands in front to cover himself again, because he knew Yolanda would smack his bottom for it. He felt like an animal at the zoo, or a statue put up in a museum, unable to leave or hide, forced to stay there and be scrutinized.

At last, Anna-maria's bold gaze rose to his face. Even though he felt humiliated and embarrassed, she looked smugly triumphant, like she'd just won a game Vincent didn't even know they'd been playing.

CHAPTER 4

Once Vincent was fully dry and dressed again, this time in a clean shirt and a pair of shorts, the three of them piled into Yolanda's station wagon to meet his father at the restaurant. Vincent sat in the back seat with Anna-maria, who seemed to positively glow with malicious glee over the fact that she'd finally gained the upper hand. The shorts Yolanda had picked out for him were short, and kept riding up the insides of his milky thighs. After the third time Vincent had tugged the hem down to cover more skin, Anna-maria made a sassy face.

“Why do you keep doing that?” she demanded in her high-pitched, sing song voice. “There's no point, I've already seen your weewee and everything.” She giggled into her hand. “Besides, those skinny legs of yours are so white, they would show right through long pants too. It's like trying to cover up the moon.” She pretended to shield her eyes from a blinding light.

Vincent pressed his lips together and said nothing, but when he glanced up he saw Yolanda watching them in the rear view mirror. Little crinkles appeared around her dark eyes. She was smiling!

He felt heat flood into his cheeks again, and even his veins seemed to burn with embarrassment and anger at the fact that they were both laughing at him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Don't worry,” Yolanda said from the front seat, in a patronizing, but tender voice. “I'll make sure to tell your padre what a good boy you were, and how well you minded me.”

Vincent shrank into his seat, blushing and embarrassed. He tugged one last time at the hem of his short shorts, then gave up with a little groan.

The restaurant wasn't far away. Yolanda parked and the three of them went inside to see if his father had arrived yet.

Vincent couldn't help but notice that everyone else in the restaurant was dressed nicer than him, and that his casual short shorts drew stares and murmurs. He tried to walk behind Yolanda, to use her as a shield from all the prying eyes. Vincent's father spotted them and stood, waving them over from across the room.

Anna-maria giddily grabbed Vincent's hand and pulled him forward through the crowded restaurant, weaving in between tables to reach his father. As he stumbled along to keep up with her little legs, Vincent kept tugging at his shorts, and kept his head down, unwilling to meet the gazes of any of the other dining patrons. He was glad when they reached the table his father had reserved, and he got a chance to quickly drop into one of the chairs.

His father tsked. “Vincent, a gentleman remains standing until the ladies are seated.”

Vincent got up again, blushing.

“What are you wearing?” His father asked, leveling a critical gaze at his son's bare legs.

“I think he looks handsome in shorts,” Yolanda interjected before Vincent could answer. “They make him look tougher, like an athlete.”

The look on his father's face made it clear that he didn't agree, but instead of saying anything more about the shorts, he pulled out Yolanda's chair for her.

Anna-maria stood beside her own chair, staring at Vincent with a smug grin and waiting.

With a sigh, he pulled it out for her, then pushed it back in once she was seated, keeping his body twisted so that the chair mostly hid his legs. Finally, he was allowed to sit again.

His father turned to Yolanda. “I hope he didn't give you any trouble while I was at the office. Did he behave as promised?”

Vincent blushed, thinking back on the humiliating bath and how long it had taken her to dry him off.

“Oh si, he was good.” She smiled at Vincent. “Mostly.”

His father nodded. “Well, it sounds like there's still room for improvement, then.”

“Perhaps.” Yolanda lifted her water glass in a toast. “But I'm sure that we can look forward to many years together, as a family, with plenty of time to correct his behavior.” She moved her glass over to clink against his father's. “To your raise, mi amor. And to us.”

“To us,” he agreed.

Anna-maria exuberantly clinked her water glass against Vincent's, knocking his over and spilling the icy water in his lap.

“Dios mio.” Yolanda grabbed her napkin and moved around the table. “Here we go again.”

Vincent blushed as she wiped at his thighs with the linen napkin, but he clenched his teeth and didn't say a word. This was his family now, and he had to be good. He'd made a promise.

(End of File)