Marlene and the Boy Next Door Part II
By David

Copyright 2009 by David, all rights reserved

* * * * *
This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit 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.
* * * * *

Part II

Marlene Miller squirmed impatiently in the back seat of the family car. Mrs. Miller and Aunt Margaret were in the front, complaining about the restaurant they'd just left and chatting away about life in general. Marlene didn't care about any of that. She was eager to get home and find out what was going on next door.

It's still daylight, she thought silently. That means there still might be time.

The ride across town was long and tedious, made even more maddening by a stop at a local convenience store. The car needed fuel and Aunt Margaret needed cigarettes. Marlene's mother offered to buy everyone ice cream.

"I'm okay," the twelve year old girl politely replied.

"You sure?" Mrs. Miller asked. "You never used to turn down ice cream."

Marlene shrugged. "I guess."

Calm on the outside, in her mind Marlene was furious! Desperate to get back to window overlooking the little cottage at the end of the lane, she couldn't let her family know why. There was no way they would understand. She bit her lip to keep from saying "What's wrong with you people! Don't you know I have more important things to do?" In keeping with her shy demeanor, however, she sat quietly and looked out the car window at nothing in particular.

"Are you all right, Marlene, sweetie?" Mrs. Miller smiled at her daughter. "You seem kind of antsy."

Marlene returned the smile and nodded. "I'm okay, Momma. I just want to get back to the house and work on my project, that's all."

Her mother looked at her for a moment. "You sure that's all it is, honey? Your face is kind of flushed."

Marlene smiled again, this time forcing a show of her white teeth and shiny metal braces. "Yes, Momma, I'm sure."

Mrs. Miller shook her head. "Well, okay, then..."

The young girl resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she smiled, looked back out the window and anxiously bit her lip.

Oh please, oh please, ohpleaseohpleaseohplease...

As soon as the car pulled into the driveway and came to a stop, Marlene gave her mother and her aunt each a kiss on the cheek and rushed toward the house.

"I'm really tired, so I think I'll go to my room and work for a while. Love ya!"

She gave them both a genuinely happy smile and was gone in a flash.

Ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease....

Mrs. Miller and her sister looked at each other and broke out laughing.

"That girl is so strange sometimes," observed Marlene's mother. "Really, I just don't know where she gets it."

Aunt Margaret nodded her head and lit up a cigarette. "Well, she's your child. It's pretty obvious she didn't get any of that strangeness from me!"

Mrs. Miller grinned. "Yeah, right!"

The soft sound of singing wafted across the yard from the house next door. Giving her sister a knowing look, Aunt Margaret took a drag from her cigarette and nodded.

"What do you think is going on over there?" she whispered.

Arlene Miller plucked the cigarette from her sister's fingers and put it between her lips. She inhaled the sweet menthol smoke into her lungs and exhaled with a satisfied sigh.

"I don't know. But I sure would like to find out."

"Me, too," replied the other woman.

The two sisters turned toward the little cottage with the ornamental garden and they stood together, silent and attentive.

* * *

Samuel Oliver was miserable.

The twelve year old boy stood at the kitchen sink, a pair of yellow rubber gloves covering his hands and arms. Up to his elbows in soap suds, he blew an errant hair out of his eyes and pondered his situation.

It had been nearly four hours since his mother dropped him off at the lonely house at the end of the lane. Nearly four hours since he had been left in the hands of a wicked old woman who cheerfully stripped him of his dignity, rendered him to tears and turned him into her personal plaything. Nearly four hours since getting his bottom blistered for no reason in particular.

Why me? he thought sadly. I didn't do anything to deserve all this!

Samuel Oliver sighed as a cool breeze tickled his bare bottom. A small white apron barely covered the front of his otherwise naked body. Thin cotton shoulder straps pulled snug against his bare skin and the wide sash drew tight around his waist, tied in a knotted bow against the small of his back. The short hem touched the top of his thighs, a constant reminder of the ridiculousness of his near nakedness. He looked at the dinner plate in his hand and at the coarsely bristled brush in the other and he sighed again. It could have been worse. A whole lot worse. He knew that from bitter experience.

Two more days, if I don't count today, he said silently to himself. Just two more stupid days. It won't be so bad if I just keep my mouth shut and do like she says...

"Wake up, baby doll," Irma Tully said in a warm yet stern voice. "Those dishes won't wash themselves, you know."

Samuel Oliver sighed a third time. A few feet away his grandmother sat working on her crossword puzzle. She glanced up, smiled and then blew him a kiss with her ugly, wormlike lips. The youngster remembered for an instant what her kisses felt like and he winced with disgust.

Yuck!

"Don't give me that look, baby doll," she said with a musicality that contrasted with her ogre-like appearance. "Not unless you want Nana to give you another spanking, that is."

Samuel felt his stomach flutter. "No, Nana. I'm ... I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Then say you're sorry then. Come on, say you're sorry."

He took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm sorry, Nana. I won't do it again."

The old woman studied his expression. "No, that's not good enough, baby doll. Say it like you mean it. Come on, one more time."

The nearly naked boy sighed. He took a breath, paused, and with as much sincerity as he could muster he said, "I'm really, really sorry I upset you, Nana. I promise, I won't do it again."

Mrs. Tully nodded. "Much better. I almost believed you that time."

Samuel bushed. "Thank you, Nana."

At first Samuel could only come up with an insincere expression, his cupid's bow lips pressed together with hardly a glimmer of hope in his eyes. A raised eyebrow and sharp look from his guardian prompted an almost authentic smile complete with dimples and white teeth.

Please let this be good enough, he thought woefully.

But it wasn't.

"No, that's not it. That's a horrible smile. Come on, baby doll," the old woman croaked. "You can do much better than that."

Samuel gave a moment's thought to how good it would be to not make his grandmother mad, a move that gave his expression an instance of true sincerity. The sudden glimmer of light in his eyes was not lost on the old woman.

"Much better. That's my pretty baby doll. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

He kept smiling as he shook his head. "No, Nana."

Despite his beaming smile, Samuel was miserable, standing there with his little bare butt peeking out from under his borrowed apron, his curly hair askew and soap bubbles covering his gloved hands. Mrs. Tully was amused by her grandson's attempt at sincerity. She knew very well that he didn't mean a word he said. What made the situation even more fascinating was that the despondent boy suspected his grandmother knew of his deception and he was terrified of being punished for it.

The old woman grinned as she shifted in her seat and adjusted the tent-sized flower print dress that covered her large frame. She took pleasure in her grandson's discomfort. It pleased her to have him wait on her hand and foot. It pleased her to see him mince about on tiptoe, afraid to make a misstep. It pleased her even more that he worked so hard to please her. That's what made this little game so fun. In her mind, all little boys needed a little humility. Some more than others. And there was nothing better than to take a brash, rude youngster like Samuel Oliver and turn him around and around until he didn't know which way was up.

"Hurry up now, baby doll. You're almost done. Soon as you finish it's bath time and then off to beddy-bye."

The semi-smiling boy blinked, then turned back to face the sink filled with dishes.

What did I ever do to deserve this? Samuel lamented as he resumed scrubbing the plate.

* * *

Supper had been remarkable, but not in a good way. It started the same way every meal at Mrs. Tully's house started, with four tablespoons of castor oil. Samuel winced as he remembered the vile taste of that awful stuff.

"We've got to make sure you're good and healthy and all cleaned out," Mrs. Tully said hours earlier as she poured the gag-inducing liquid down his throat. "Oh, don't make such an ugly face, baby doll. You should be used to it by now. Here, take one more spoonful. That's my pretty little boy! Down the hatch it comes!"

The castor oil was followed by wilted broccoli, cauliflower and spinach, along with some brussels sprouts, all without so much as a pinch of salt, as the main course. As usual, he had to do all the work in preparing the meal, padding barefoot and naked back and forth across the kitchen under his grandmother's watchful eye. She monitored his every move as he filled pans with water, cleaned vegetables, set the table and such. He never did chores at home and he hoped his mother never found out that he did them here. Especially in his birthday suit!

That would be horrible, the frowning child thought to himself. Mom gets pretty mad at me sometimes. She'd probably like making me run around naked and do chores!

His rear end was still too sore from his spanking to sit down, so he stood at the table and carefully ate spoonful after spoonful of the bland, yucky vegetables under Mrs. Tully's watchful eye. He felt like a prisoner in one of his storybooks being tortured by an evil adversary.

"Don't worry, baby doll," the smiling old lady said cheerfully. "You bottom will be all better tomorrow. You can sit down as much as you want, as long as you don't make Nana give you another spanking!"

While Samuel ate his meal Irma Tully conducted her weekly interrogation. She quizzed him on his activities at home, asking him about everything from his friends to his lessons to his bathroom habits. He was amazed at her recollection and breadth of knowledge. She knew everything about him and would call him on his lack of memory or attempt at deception. She knew all of his friends by name and remembered who he got it trouble with at school last month. She could explain where he went wrong on his math test as easily as she could get him to confess to that "thing" he did when his mother caught him in the bathroom.

"What you did was naughty, baby doll." The smiling woman gave him a warm, knowing smile. "Your mother is very disappointed in you."

The naked boy wiped his eyes. "But, Nana, I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I mean, I can't help it. Sometimes my ... my ... dick..."

"Don't say 'dick,' baby doll," prompted Mrs. Tully. "Say 'wee-wee' instead, please."

Ashamed, Samuel nodded. "Yes, ma'am, my ... wee-wee. Sometimes it just does things and I can't stop it."

The old woman's eyes sparkled with delight as she clucked her tongue against her teeth. "Well, don't you worry about it, baby doll. Nana has a solution. She'll make you all better and we'll put a stop to that ugly behavior."

Not knowing what else to say, the naked boy said, "Yes, Nana," and quietly resumed eating his dreaded brussels sprouts.

Samuel Oliver hated that part of the evening almost as much as he hated vegetables ... or being nude or getting a spanking. But he endured as he always did. There was nothing he could do, nowhere he could go. His grandmother had complete and utter control over his entire world and all he could do was stand and smile and do as he was told.

That old woman really is a mean old witch, he thought, pouring his anger into scrubbing the plate. I can't wait to get out of here!

* * *

Samuel's stomach rumbled, causing him a sudden moment of sheer terror. That would be the castor oil. He could feel his belly churning something awful. A sudden spasm caused him to wince not so much in pain as in fear. That wasn't good. He'd been through this before and knew pretty much what to expect. In a little while he'd be sitting on the toilet ... and that's when the real nightmare would begin.

Meanwhile Samuel Oliver tried not to think about the future. Instead he attempted to take solace in his chores. This was the third time he'd washed this particular plate. He guessed he'd been washing dishes for nearly half an hour. He really didn't mind. At least standing at the sink he didn't have to look at his grandmother's smirking face or endure her constantly roaming hands probing and tickling his naked body.

Samuel finally put away the dinner plate and picked up the shiny pan he used to boil vegetables for supper. It was barely dirty at all, requiring only a few swipes with the soapy brush to render it sparkling clean. More significant was the fact that the pan made a nearly perfect mirror in which he could see himself.

The youngster looked at his reflection in the shiny pan and made an ugly face. His long blond hair was pulled back into a loose, curly ponytail, something he never did at home.

I look stupid! he thought sadly. How come I have to be the one who looks like this?

Samuel hated how he looked. His fair complexion, full lips and big eyes made him stand out from the other boys. His hair didn't help. He'd wanted to get it cut for weeks now, but his mother - at the prompting of his new "grandmother," he suspected - insisted on letting it grow until it touched his shoulders. His friends all teased him about it endlessly, but the girls at school loved his curls. He pretended it made him look like a rock star, but he knew better.

The problem was, it wasn't just girls his age who loved his hair. Little girls, elementary school age girls, high school girls and grown women were pointing it out in public, always wanting to touch it and fuss over it. Adult women were the worst. Ever since his hair had gotten long, his mother's friends, his teachers, the old ladies at church, even total strangers at the grocery store would stop and fawn over "how pretty" he was with his curly locks.

"It is a tragedy that such lovely hair is wasted on a boy. I never!"

"It's not wasted. He's such a pretty boy, he could have been a girl!"

"He certainly is a pretty boy. Hello, pretty boy, I just love your pretty hair!"

"Oh, my, he's a boy? I thought he was a girl. What a shame! I've got a whole closet full of dresses that would look just wonderful on him!"

Samuel made an ugly face at his reflection. He wanted to be strong and handsome. But he wasn't strong and he had never been called handsome. He was always "pretty" and "cute" and "adorable." And as far as he knew, he would be that way for several years to come.

Why me?

Studying his reflection in the convex bottom of the pan, Samuel was as frustrated as he was sad. The sissy way Mrs. Tully tied his hair back was enough to make him ill with shame. A few loose strands framed his plump cheeks and the curly bangs tickled his eyelashes. He brushed a stray lock back over his ear only to see it fall again.

His nose tingled. If only Dad hadn't run off with that other woman, maybe Mom wouldn't be so mad at me all the time. Maybe she wouldn't bring me over here to Mrs. Tully. Maybe...

Samuel Oliver sighed again. He suddenly felt a cool breeze tickle his backside. He felt so exposed. That stupid, skimpy little kitchen apron didn't help matters. He should have liked it as it did cover his privates. Just barely. But he didn't. He hated the white cotton fabric with its creased pleats and those stupid eyelet ruffles. He hated how the starched material was stiff and coarse and how it irritated his skin, especially the tip of his penis! The feeling was so miserable it actually made him want to go naked!

Samuel held a special hatred for how the borrowed garment made him look. From the front it looked like he was wearing a little dress! He held the improvised mirror out far enough to inspect his overall appearance. Yep, just exactly like a dress. The very thought chilled him to the bone.

At least there isn't anybody else around to see me like this, he said to himself. I'd die if any of my buddies back home saw me this way. Even worse would be if a girl walked in and saw me! I don't know what I'd do then!

The frustrated boy tried to put his thoughts far, far away. He imagined what his friends back home would be doing. Tonight was Friday night and he was missing all the fun. He pictured his buddies going to a ball game or the new pizza place or doing something - anything! - more exciting than washing dishes for some dumb old lady.

Even sitting around doing nothing would be a lot more fun than being trapped naked in this stupid old house, the frustrated seventh grader thought. This is just horrible!

His thoughts drifting, Samuel allowed himself to smile - a real, genuine smile! - for a moment. His best friend Aaron probably had some cigarettes and was lighting one up about right then. Well, Aaron wasn't exactly his best friend, but he let Samuel hang around sometimes for fun. Samuel didn't really like cigarettes, but he loved how grown up and dangerous they made him feel when he held one. Not at all like the "sissy boy" the other guys sometimes called him.

He felt a familiar tingling in his nose and a tear welled up in the corner of his eye. If today was Friday, then tomorrow would be Saturday. He'd be missing out on bike riding and flying model planes and playing ball with his friends. Sometimes he'd even get to go to the movies on Saturday afternoon. That was always the best!

Dang it! Samuel bit his lip and frowned. Tomorrow's the day everybody is going to see that new superhero movie! I really want to go and see that movie!

He glanced down at his meager attire and sighed once again. He had a pretty good idea he wouldn't be going to any movies any time soon.

Dang it!

Why me???

Samuel wiped his wet nose and cheek on his bare arm. He hated crying in front of his grandmother. He figured his crying made her happy and he hated that. But he couldn't help himself. Trapped in his birthday suit and doing women's work around the house, that was enough to make anybody cry.

"That's good enough, baby doll." Samuel jumped as a warm hand touched him on his bare shoulder. He looked up to see Mrs. Tully's pug like face smiling down at him. "Empty out the sink and put the dishes in the rack. It's time to go to the bathroom. Come along, hurry up!"

How does she do that? he thought for an instant. It was at times like this that he really did wonder if she was a witch!

Samuel Oliver did as he was told. Through the kitchen's open window he could hear the arrival of a car next door, followed by car doors slamming, feminine voices and the sound of footsteps.

I wonder what the neighbors would do if they knew what was going on? he thought bitterly.

* * *

Marlene Miller was frustrated. From her post at her desk she saw nothing interesting in the Tully house. Through her father's old army field glasses she could observe most of the kitchen, to include the barren dining table, the rack filled with freshly washed dishes and a little white apron hanging on a hook. But that was about it.

"Doggone it, I missed dinner!" the young girl whispered to herself. "Stupid Aunt Margaret and her stupid cigarettes! She doesn't need to be smoking anyway!"

She smiled as she remembered watching Samuel Oliver prance around in the kitchen, sometimes naked, sometimes clad in little more than a silly little apron that looked like it came off of a Halloween costume. The image of a boy working in the kitchen, doing "women's work" in such a state was enough to cause her eyes to dilate and her breathing to increase.

I'm going to have a boy fix me dinner like that one of these days, she silently vowed. That will show him who's boss in my house!

Marlene put down the glasses and thought for a few moments. She knew Mrs. Tully's routine pretty well by now. Supper was over, so Samuel would be getting his bath and then get sent to bed. It usually took about an hour for the bath, so she had a little time before the next show. It would be short and sweet ... and she wouldn't miss it for anything in the world.

I better go pee, the freckle-faced girl said to herself. Then I'll be ready and there'll be no excuses in case something special happens tonight!

* * *

Samuel Oliver felt so small and helpless as he walked through the house before his grandmother. She always made him walk ahead, coaching him with words that made him feel like little child.

"Nana," the youngster croaked. "You ... you're not going to give me a ... another, you know ... enema ... are you?"

Irma Tully laughed. "What a silly question, you silly little thing! Of course Nana's giving you an another enema! Doesn't she always? We go through this every time you come to visit. You know that, baby doll. What in the world is the matter with you? You act like you don't enjoy them anymore!"

Samuel's knees felt weak and rubbery as he approached the bathroom door. He knew very well what would happen if he went into that room. A thrill of fear and anxiety shot through his naked body and he felt more than a little sick to his stomach. This time the queasiness had nothing to do with castor oil or buttermilk.

Not tonight, oh, please, not tonight, he thought desperately. A sudden tingling in his bottom caused him to clench his butt cheeks together. I don't think I can do this again...

A warm, rough hand pressed against his bare back and like in a dream, he felt himself being pushed into the one room in the house that struck fear in his heart.

Irma Tully's bathroom was large considering the quaint size of her house. Black and white tiles on the floor and walls gave it an old-fashioned, almost hospital look. The porcelain sink was spare but large and a built in cabinet was an ominous presence for those who knew its secrets.

Samuel glanced at the shiny white toilet where he spent many hours sitting under his grandmother's careful scrutiny. He shuddered to think just how much time he actually did spend there. More than on any toilet in his entire life. He felt sad think about the time he would spend on it this weekend.

I hate that thing! he thought angrily.

A large claw-foot tub dominated the room. Samuel had many memories about that piece of equipment as well. Very few of them were pleasant. An odd feature about this tub was the hinged table mounted on the wall over it. Releasing a latch would allow the table to fold down and rest on the upper edge of the tub, presenting a handy surface to work on. The first time Samuel saw it he assumed it was for folding clothes and other household chores. He quickly discovered its truly nefarious purpose.

"Get on the potty and see if you can make poopies for Nana," Mrs. Tully said. "Nana is going to get everything ready, so you just concentrate on making poopies, all right?"

I wish she'd quit talking to me like that, Samuel thought as he climbed onto the ancient toilet. Sometimes she acts like I'm two years old!

Samuel watched with dread as the old woman removed her dress and hung it on a hook on the bathroom door. Clad in little more than her slip and underwear, her bulky, misshapen body intimidated the naked boy. Those humongous breasts imprinted on his young mind, an unforgettable symbol of female authority.

The nervous boy watched as his grandmother opened the cabinet and began assembling her equipment. The first time he saw these things just a few weeks before he was more curious than afraid. His curiosity was now long past. Fear had replaced curiosity. What scared him even more was how his fear was now slowly turning into familiarity and acceptance.

* * *

Samuel Oliver would never forget his first enema. Just as he did so many Friday evenings before, he was sitting on that very same toilet, naked and hurting from a severe spanking, when his grandmother made a very strange announcement.

"You've been so much trouble to your mother, I've decided to try and drain your energy with an enema," she announced. "Perhaps that will calm you down and in turn give us all a little peace and quiet."

Samuel blinked. "An ... enemy?"

Mrs. Tully turned to the mysterious wall cabinet and produced a collection of little rubber bulbs, some red, some pink and blue. All were attached to weird little nozzles in a variety of sized from no larger than a pencil to as big as a man's penis. Which was what a couple of them seemed to resemble.

Wide-eyed and nervous, Samuel gave a little shiver. What the heck do you do with something like that? he wondered fretfully. Maybe she's going to iron some clothes.

Next came a pair of rubber bags, one small pink one and another huge red one. The anxious boy watched with confusion as his grandmother uncoiled long hoses and attached them to each bag. The worrisome nozzles were present on the ends of the hoses as well.

"Did you make poopies?"

Samuel shook his head. He found it almost impossible to "make poopies" with someone standing over him. His grandmother inspected the bowl, then his bottom. Before allowing him off the toilet she made sure the wipe the tip of his penis with toilet paper.

"Little boys don't touch their wee-wees," she reminded him. "That's what Nana is for! Nana loves taking care of her baby doll's wee-wee!"

The chagrined child felt ridiculous at his grandmother's treatment. All he could do was nod in agreement.

Mrs. Tully then drug him to the counter where she waved her hands over the items she'd so carefully arranged. She picked up one of the larger squeeze bulbs and with a smile she handed it to her grandson.

"See, baby doll, I'll use this little douche syringe to rinse out your bottom. Then I'll use one of these" - she indicated the pair of larger nozzles attached to the rubber bags - "to cleanse the rest of your innards. You'll be the cleanest boy on the block by the time I'm through with you!"

Samuel Oliver gave the pink bulb a careful examination, running his fingers over the smooth shaft and caressing the fluted tip. A faint image was coming to light, but he still could not figure it out.

"Nana, you said something about a douche. What's that?" he asked with some hesitancy. "Is it going to hurt?"

The old woman studied his reaction to the little rubber device and smiled a sinister smile.

"Oh, baby doll, you mean you've never heard that word before? Not ever?"

Samuel clutched the syringe tightly and shrugged. "I dunno. I heard one of the guys at school call someone that one time. But I don't know what it means."

Mrs. Tully smiled. "Of course you don't. You're way too nice to know such things. And don't you pay any attention to those nasty mean old boys at school. That's ugly talk. The word 'douche' is actually a very good word. It means 'shower' in French. Isn't that interesting? Douching is how pretty girls - and pretty little boys just like you - keep clean."

"How girls ... keep clean?" He stared at the ivory nozzle in his hand and tried to imagine how such a strange thing might be used to wash with. He still couldn't visualize it. "With this little thing?"

"Good hygiene is very important. All girls, and like I said, some pretty little boys, need to keep fresh and clean, inside and out."

"Inside and out?" Samuel whimpered. The nozzle in his hand suddenly took on an ominous appearance. "Inside and out?!!!"

Mrs. Tully nodded with her customary smirk. "That's what I said, child ... inside and out."

An incredible image suddenly formed in his mind, and he began to understand what she was saying. Inside and out ... as bizarre as it seemed, it had to be true. It was the only thing that made any sense. Pondering the plastic object in his hand, he was as fascinated as he was frightened.

"But, Nana, I'm not a girl ... I'm a boy," he protested. "You can't wash my insides."

"That is nonsense, baby doll!" she replied. "Granted, you may not have as many nooks and crannies as a girl, but what you do have surely could use a washing. You were a filthy little thing when you first arrived and right now you're not much better. Besides, this will calm you down a bit and make you feel so much better."

Even if he could escape, where would he go? Who would save him? His father was long gone. And his mother wouldn't have any sympathy, that was for sure. With his luck, she might want to do this to him herself! Anything resistance would only result in another session over Nana's knee and then - he was sure - he would end up giving in anyway. Better to submit than to suffer. At least that was his plan for now.

And so the naked boy just stood in the middle of the brightly lit room and tried not to let his nerves get the better of him.

Humming cheerfully to herself, the old woman ignored Samuel's anxiety and instead went to work gathering together a collection of bottles, jars, rubber gloves, and thermometers. With a smile on her face she laid everything out over a white towel spread across the countertop. As far as she was concerned, nothing could be better than what she was doing.

"Now comes the fun part," she said, shooting a wink at the bewildered boy.

Mrs. Tully proceed to mix a pitcher of hot, steamy water with a generous amount of a golden liquid soap. Samuel watched with dreadful interest as she filled a clear glass bowl with the solution. Another pitcher was prepared and she filled the pink rubber bag and hung it on a brass towel ring over the tub. She repeated the process once again until the large red bag was full and hanging over the tub as well.

That can't be what I think it is, the naked boy thought woefully. I mean, she can't really do this to me ... can she?

While the trembling child contemplated his fate, his grandmother folded down the table and spread a thick white towel across the expansive surface. She then fashioned a thick towel into a pillow of sorts and handed it to him.

"Come along, pretty boy. Up you go," she ordered, gesturing toward the table.

Feeling slightly nauseous, Samuel followed her lead, reluctantly climbing into place. Lying face down as directed, he shivered as her fingers slide over his vulnerable, plump behind.

"That's it, baby doll. Down with your head and up with your pretty bottom. Pull your knees up ... come on, you can raise your behind higher than that! That's my pretty little boy!"

"Yes, Nana." He did as he was told, arching his back and pointing his nakedness as high as he could while burying his face in the soft Turkish towel pillow.

A sharp snapping sound attracted his attention and he looked up just in time to see his grandmother pull on a pair of thin pink rubber gloves. She looked down and smiled at him as she wriggled her fingers and adjusted the fit, her mischievous expression causing him to swoon with dread.

What's she going to do to me, he thought in sheer terror. Please don't let it be what I think it is...

It was.

Samuel felt like he was going to die as his grandmother's forceful hands spread his chubby cheeks and began probing. No one had ever touched him in that spot before. He hardly ever touched it himself, as a matter of fact, except when he went to the bathroom. His mother was always complaining about having to wash his nasty underwear, but he'd thought that was just part of being a mom. Little did he realize that after this day he would see things much, much differently.

Mrs. Tully smiled and took her time as she worked, gently touching the shivering boy with deft fingers, smearing a generous dab of some foul smelling goop around Samuel's little hole just before slipping, like a thief in the night, deep inside.

The old woman almost giggled as his sphincter muscles grabbed her finger. This was one of her most favorite things to do. She was good at it and her skills showed as she worked her digit deep inside the child's rectum.

"Oh, no-o-o-o..." Samuel Oliver sobbed in horror as a lone, curious finger penetrated ever so slowly into his body, wiggling and twisting about as though in search of something. "Take it out, please, Nana! Please, oh, please, take it out!"

"Oh, I can't do that, baby doll. We're just getting started. Now, enough playing. Nana needs you to open up your bottom. Can you do that for Nana?"

"I ... I ... I can't," he gasped breathlessly. He fought to expel the invading explorer, but it was tenacious and energetic as it burrowed into his body. He was losing the battle.

"Oh, come on now, baby doll," encouraged the old woman. "Just relax and open up a little bit. Everything's going to be fine as long as you do as I ask."

Samuel winced in pain as the curious finger poked its way in further.

"Nana ... please take it out! It hurts!"

"That is your own fault, baby doll," his grandmother fussed. "It wouldn't hurt if you'd do as I say. Relax your little bottom and open it up. Let Nana in and everything will be just fine."

Fighting against all instinct to resist, he shamefully relaxed the muscles guarding his intimacy so as to relieve the pressure, and just as he did he felt a second finger slide in to join the first. Together they twirled and danced and explored his poor bottom without mercy.

"Oh ... Nana..." he sobbed. "Please ... stop it! Please, oh, please, stop it..."

But she didn't stop. The assault on Samuel's anus went on for what seemed like an eternity ... this persistent, inescapable penetration on his physical body as well as his consciousness. Samuel couldn't believe he was being touched in a way that he'd never been touched before, in a way that few boys ever would be- or probably should be- touched. His face, his arms, and even his chest flushed with blood, and his hips squirmed involuntarily under the direction of his grandmother's meticulous examination. The shame he felt was unbearable, the confusion total and absolute.

I didn't do anything wrong, he thought, tearful and panicked. Why is she doing this to me?

Please, somebody - anybody! - help me!

Then, suddenly, it was over.

"Just as I suspected," Nana said sympathetically as she began her withdrawal. "No wonder that you are such a mess. You are absolutely filled up with all sorts of boyish nastiness."

"I-I-I ... I didn't know that," the naked boy stammered. He sighed with relief as his grandmother's fingers slid out of his bottom. He tried to catch his breath as she washed her gloved hands.

Samuel knew what to expect this time, which made it somewhat easier for his grandmother to get past his modesty. With a little probing and coaxing, she was finally able to slip first a finger, then the thermometer inside his twitching hole and hold it there for the prescribed period of time. A few minutes longer, perhaps, for good measure. Again, he sighed with relief as the offending instrument was finally withdrawn.

"What's my temperature?" he asked, not really caring. All he wanted to know was when this nightmare would be over.

"Never you mind," his grandmother replied. "Now give me your little toy, dearest. You can play with it later all you want."

At first he didn't know what she was talking about. Then he realized that she was gesturing toward the small squeeze bulb still in his hand. He'd forgotten that he was holding the cursed thing the entire time she'd been examining him and taking his temperature! He felt so foolish.

"Do we really have to do this?" He pleaded desperately as she took the nozzle from him and dipped the curved tip in the glass bowl of soapy water. He watched with dreadful amazement as she filled the bulb with the warm solution.

"Oh, we must," she said sincerely. "Like I said, you are full of boyish nastiness, and we just can't have that."

Helpless, yet amazed, Samuel watched from his prostrate position as his grandmother thoughtfully smeared the ugly fluted nozzle with a thick, heavy coating of the lubricating jelly. Nana then proceeded to administer Samuel's first douche. It was a scene that would be repeated over and over and over again for the next several weeks.

The first thing she did was to carefully part his poor cheeks, massaging the tender flesh with a well lubricated finger as a prelude to pressing the thick, bulbous head of the slippery syringe deep within his body.

"Don't resist," she warned. "Open up your little rosebud and let Nana inside."

Against better judgment, he once more let himself relax, gasping sharply as his tender sphincter was forced wide open, then shivering in surprise as the long, slick shaft slid up inside his body, swirling and burrowing and snaking about as though it was alive. Every nerve, every muscle, every thought centered on the intrusion into his being. He felt like he'd been charged with electricity.

"Oh, gosh!" Samuel Oliver cried out just as a squirt of warm water entered his rectum. It was so surprising that his whole body jerked in reaction. That simple action was the strangest, most frightening thing he'd experienced ever since, well, his grandmother slipped her finger up inside his bottom only a few minutes before. This new sensation, however, seemed even worse as the pulsing flow of water was complicated by his grandmother removing the nozzle and refilling it and then inserting it again for a fresh squirt.

After waiting for several minutes, Nana helped the trembling boy from the table and directed him to the toilet where he went through the mortifying process of letting go of his pooh. The gush of water and the smell of his own waste and soapy water was unnerving. Having his grandmother watch over him in such a helpless state was completely demoralizing.

"That was a good start," Nana said after examining the contents of the toilet. "Now it's time for your enema."

Again the youngster was guided onto the table. Again he was ordered to position his bottom so his grandmother could easily access his aching hole. He watched in horror as she greased up the huge black rubber nozzle attached to the pink bag. Its phallic shape was alarming realistic and he wondered if his poor hole would be able to handle something so intimidating.

It took a few moments, but the old woman knew what she was doing. She pressed the tip of the nozzle against the shamed boy's rosebud, slipping it in and out just enough to elicit a sob of despair. With a smile she suddenly pressed the nozzle past her grandson's sphincter and slipping deep inside his tender rectum. He squirmed uncontrollably for several minutes, unable to control his twitching even after a sharp smack on his bare butt.

"Don't make Nana give you a spanking," she warned sternly. "I'll do it and then we'll start this whole thing all over again! Do you understand me?"

Ashamed and miserable, the twelve year old boy whispered, "Yes, Nana. I'm sorry, Nana."

Then came the flood. It came faster, harder and in far greater volume than the douche. Samuel gasped as a heavy rush of warmth thrilled his bottom and then filled his belly. He could feel the weight of the sudsy liquid penetrate and cleanse his innards. Clutching his pillow and moaning softly, he tried in vain to keep his composure.

"Please, Nana ... my stomach ... it hurts so bad ..." he sobbed in agony. "I-I-I ... I think I'm going to be ... sick."

The flow of solution seemed to come on forever, the pressure building so powerfully that he thought it would tear his stomach apart. For a moment he felt himself lose control, and a trickle of water began running down the back of his leg.

"No, don't let go just yet!" Nana chastised him with a sharp slap on his bottom. "Don't you dare let go! We're not done! We'll have to start all over again if you make a mess."

"I can't help it!" he cried out in desperation. "I have to go to the bathroom! Please let me up!"

"I said not yet!" warned his grandmother. "You have to take it all in if we want to do it right. Do you want to start all over again?"

"N-n-n-no ... no," he gasped for breath. "Please, no, Nana..."

"Then just hush up and hold still, baby doll. You'll thank me when it's all over, I promise."

Moaning and groaning pitifully, he fought to contain himself, in desperate hope of ending this torture as soon as possible. At last, after a very uncomfortable struggle, he pulled himself tightly together, and the leaking stopped. He felt something inside his belly give way and another rush of warmth spread throughout his inner being.

Samuel felt his grandmother massaging his distended belly. She spoke softly in his ear.

"Now, see ... it's really not that bad. Just think how clean and fresh you'll be when we're done. No more of that awful stuff up inside you. You'll feel so much better."

At long last the flow of water stopped. Dizzy with confusion, the youngster turned his head and saw his grandmother smiling at him in a strangely satisfying way. Still impaled by the dreaded ivory nozzle, he was shaken by the nonchalant manner with which she administered his humiliation.

"Now tell me the truth," his grandmother chatted brightly as she patted his bare bottom. "This isn't so bad, is it?"

"Nana ... It's horrible!" he complained into his pillow. "I hate it!"

Samuel was so upset and embarrassed that he couldn't answer. Instead, he just kept his face in his pillow and prayed for mercy. After all, what could he say? There he was, kneeling there on that awful table with his dainty bare bottom up in the air, holding that slippery black rubber nozzle in between his cheeks, its long white hose running from his bottom to the empty bag hanging above him. No wonder his grandmother gave him an amused look.

"Good, I thought you'd agree. We'll do this a few more times, then take a little break and do it again." The old woman grinned at the look of horror on her grandson's face. "Just think, baby doll, you'll feel so wonderful after we're done. You'll have the nicest smile on your face, the lightest skip in your step. All day long you'll be in such a delightful mood. Nana knows exactly what pretty little boys like."

While his grandmother continued to talk so cheerily, the hated rubber nozzle was kept in place as "we wait for the enema to work."

At long last the offending nozzle was removed and he was allowed to get up. Mincing carefully toward the toilet, Samuel saw himself in the mirror. His belly was bloated and huge in comparison to what it usually looked like. He thought about the gigantic rubber bag and winced as he realized all that soapy water was now up inside his body.

This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me! he thought as he finally sat on the toilet and let his body purge itself. How can she do this to me? I wish my mom would come take me home!

Samuel Oliver knew, however, than no one would rescue him. Sitting here so helplessly, like a little baby, with this odd woman watching over him while he emptied himself of the most awful, vile nastiness anyone could imagine. The disgrace of having someone else take over his most intimate bodily function was overwhelming to the youngster. He thought about the heroes in the books and tales he read and could not imagine any of them having to suffer as he did. He wanted to rise up and say, "Stop it! Leave me alone!" He was, however, quite literally too drained to protest.

As time went on Samuel couldn't believe how much stuff came out of his body. Just as he thought he was done, a sudden cramp would warn him not to get up. Then the cycle would start again. For the longest time he sat helplessly as a constant stream of foul smelling soapy water shot out of his little hole. It went on for so long that he nearly dozed off at his seat, exhausted by the ordeal so far.

"Come along, baby doll," his grandmother said with a crooked smile. "You should be empty by now."

After checking the contents of the toilet bowl and flushing it, Mrs. Tully walked over to where the huge red rubber bag was still hanging over the tub. She touched it with affection, almost as though it held special memories for her. She then pointed the large black nozzle at the panicked child.

"Get back up on the table, baby doll. We still have a long way to go before we're finished."

"What do you mean?" he asked, a feeling of dread growing within me. "We don't really have to do all this again, do we? I mean, I thought you were just kidding! Isn't once enough?"

The old woman sighed. "No, you silly little boy. Once is not enough. And if there's one thing I never kid about, it's giving little boys their enema. You see, baby doll, there's still an awful lot of nasty stuff inside you and we need to clean you out. It might take us two or three times ... maybe even more, before you're completely clean."

"Completely clean ... three times..." he said in disbelief.

"And like I said, we have all weekend to practice it again and again."

Samuel's face screwed up like he was going to cry.

"No! I'm not going to do it! You can't do this to me!"

Without warning the old woman's hand darted forward, fast as a snake! A sudden pinch on the tip of his penis took his breath away, distracting him long enough to see the menacing smile on her pudgy, ogre-like face.

Samuel hollered, "OW!!! You hurt me!" He tried to move away, but the grip she had on his penis was so strong he was afraid it might get pulled off!

Mrs. Tully gave her grandson a stern look and his boyish member another harsh pinch. "Don't make Nana angry, baby doll. You don't want me to pinch it off, do you?"

"No ... Nana." The terrified boy looked down at the floor and shook his head.

"That hurts," he said, crying.

"Oh, quit acting like it's the end of the world. Just hush up and do as I say."

Samuel nodded his curly head as his grandmother relinquished her hold on his aching organ.

"Yes, Nana," he whimpered.

The sobbing child reluctantly climbed back on the table where he endured the entire enema process again. And again. And again.

"This isn't so bad, is it?" Nana asked when she was finally done. "You're so much cleaner and healthier now that we've gotten rid of all that nastiness. And it felt so lovely, too, didn't it? Believe me, you'll sleep well tonight and tomorrow will be a wonderful day. I promise! It will be an absolutely fantastic, wonderful day!"

Samuel Oliver sat on the toilet, dazed and confused at what just happened to him. A baffling combination of shame and elation mixed with exhaustion caused him to tremble all over. He wanted to yell, to scream and curse at the old woman for what she had done to him. But he couldn't. He was incredibly tired from being poked and prodded and washed in places he could hardly imagine. All he wanted to do was lay down and go to sleep. Protest and revolt would have to wait for another day.

"Yes, Nana," the defeated boy whispered. "A wonderful day..."

* * *

Samuel Oliver shook his curly head and blinked. He was sitting on the toilet, drained and exhausted, trying his best to ignore the confusing thoughts that flashed through his mind.

Please, let this be the last one tonight, he silently prayed. Please, oh, please...

Samuel winced as he felt an ache in his bottom. It had been, what, almost a month since he'd been introduced to the "pleasures" of the enema? It felt like he'd been poked at least a hundred times with those stupid nozzles. Maybe he had been. He didn't know. He was so tired, he couldn't think straight. All he knew was that no matter how hard he tried, he was not one step closer to putting a stop to what he considered the most awful thing that could ever happen to him or anybody else.

I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy, the pouting boy pondered.

Tonight had been like every other night. Powerless and not knowing what else to do, he'd climbed up on the table, he'd put his bare bottom up in the air and he'd let that ugly old woman do as she wanted with him. Just as he had done time and time again, he just laid there, weak and complacent, submitting to the most humiliating thing he could imagine in the world.

He tried not to cry anymore, but a single tear persisted, slowly making a wet trail down his pale, pink cheek.

"Come along, baby doll," Irma Tully finally said. "You're all cleaned out. It's time for your bath and then it's beddy-bye time! Here, wash up your toys while Nana runs your bath."

Head down, Samuel shyly glanced up at his grandmother. "We're done for tonight, then, Nana?"

Samuel took the douche bag and syringe and nodded. Just as he'd done dozens of times before, he began rinsing them in the bathroom sink.

"What do you say, baby doll?"

Samuel Oliver sighed, then turned and smiled a bright smile at his grandmother. It was either that or start crying again.

"Thank you, Nana," the curly haired boy said sweetly.

Irma Tully smiled back.

"You're welcome, baby doll."

* * *

Marlene Miller sat at her desk and flipped through her book. Her room was dark except for a small desk lamp that allowed her to read. She had the lamp angled so that it illuminated her book and nothing else. She'd tested this arrangement many times, putting her old Barbie fashion head on the desk and slipping outside in the dark to make sure it could not be seen.

The freckle-faced twelve year old smiled as she studied the pages before her. It was her mother's medical book. She'd borrowed it shortly after seeing Samuel naked that first time. Being a studious child, she wanted to know as much as possible about what she was seeing. There were several drawings of male genitalia, complete with all the terms and information a medical student - or curious adolescent - required. She kept the handy reference in her bookcase ever since. Mrs. Miller never said a word, which suited Marlene's purposes perfectly.

The young girl shifted her seat as she mentally compared the illustrations with what she'd seen earlier in the evening through her binoculars. She bit her lip to keep from giggling.

This stuff is weird, she thought to herself. Glans, foreskin, urethra, testicles, prostate ... yuck! I like Mrs. Tully's words better. Pink pearl, wee-wee, rosebud, those are definitely more fun!

Marlene's ears strained for any sign of activity in the little cottage next door. If everything was on schedule, it was bath time in the Tully household. The excited girl couldn't see a thing that was going on in Mrs. Tully's bathroom, but that did not hamper her enthusiasm for her little game. If nothing else it made her even more determined to find out all of the little secrets hidden in the little house at the end of the lane.

The acoustics were not too bad that evening, thank goodness. From across the yard she could hear Mrs. Tully's warm, soothing voice through the bathroom window, singing and chatting away, accompanied by the soft, submissive whiny response of a spoiled rotten boy.

Marlene could barely make out Samuel's quiet "Yes, Nana." There was some more talking, followed by the sound of running water as the unseen bathtub was filled.

She knew something special was happening in that bathroom, but she could not imagine what that might be. She couldn't quite hear everything, but it sounded as though Mrs. Tully was inspecting and washing her grandson before his bath. While that sounded like fun, the twelve year old sleuth could not imagine why someone would do such a thing.

"Why would you give a bath to someone before giving them another bath? That just doesn't make any sense!" she said aloud to herself. "I've got to figure out what's going on in that bathroom, Something strange is going on and I'm going to find out exactly what!"

For the time being Marlene concentrated on the sounds of the tub being filled. She thought about all that might happen in such scenarios and she amused herself as she imagined Mrs. Tully giving her grandson a bath. The smiling girl couldn't help giggling as she pictured Samuel Oliver standing naked in the tub, covered in soap suds, and pouting as the old woman rubbed him from head to toe with a washcloth.

I wonder if he's crying, she thought to herself. He would if I was giving him that bath!

"Listen to me!" she said aloud to herself. "I'm getting a real mean streak in me!"

Marlene giggled as she allowed her imagination to run wild. She pretended for a moment that she was Mrs. Tully, running her hands all over the helpless Samuel's slippery, smooth body. She imagined her fingers pausing in those areas of a boy that girls found so interesting and oftentimes repulsive. She would tug and pull and poke and squeeze every bit of that blond headed boy's body.

I really want to touch his little pink pearl! she thought to herself. If I could, I'd rub it and pinch it until it stood straight up. Then I'd make him cry like a little baby! Enough boys made me cry ... it's time I got even with at least one of them!

The seventh grader's thoughts didn't end with the image of Samuel's boyish organ. She thought about all of the other things she could do to him, like slapping his wet, tender bottom as hard as she could and reprimand him - "Stand still, you dirty boy, unless you want more from my hairbrush!" - for no reason other than to make him cry some more!

"I think I'm getting a real mean streak in me," the young girl whispered to herself.

Marlene Miller giggled. Mrs. Tully is so lucky. She gets to make boys cry and people think she's the nicest little old lady.

She's the luckiest woman alive!

* * *

Samuel Oliver stood shyly before his grandmother as she brushed his long, curly hair one final time. Fresh and clean - inside and out! - the blushing twelve year old felt a weary sense of relief.

The bath hadn't been too bad. The worst part was the same. Mrs. Tully - sorry, "Nana" - always spent too much time cleaning his penis, which was as embarrassing and uncomfortable as it sounds. Seated on a stool next to the tub, his grandmother would make him stand up straight and motionless while she took his slender organ in her hand and folded back the fragile foreskin. A pink handled toothbrush would be run across a bar of soap and then she'd scrub around the pink mushroom cap and the little slit at the tip like she was polishing her silverware. No matter how many times she did this he couldn't help but squirm and moan and cry just a little bit.

"Oh, hush! It's your own fault, dirty boy! If you didn't play with yourself, and if your mother would keep you clean, Nana wouldn't have to do this," Irma Tully lectured. "Little boys shouldn't touch their wee-wees. Grandmothers and mothers are supposed to keep their little boys clean. That's just what we do."

As usual, by the time she was done with Samuel's penis, it was erect and standing away from his body at an upward angle. The blushing boy clenched and unclenched his hands repeatedly, his thoughts a scrambled flurry of raw emotion racing through his young mind.

I'll be in the bed in a little while, he finally thought to himself. It's way too early, but I don't care! The more time I spend asleep, the less time I'm around this old witch!

Standing with his hands by his side, Samuel Oliver listened attentively as his grandmother brushed his curly locks in careful, loving strokes. As she did so, she told him all she had planned for them to do together that weekend. He tried to block out her voice, but his curiosity outweighed his need to shut down.

"... and so tomorrow we'll work in the garden and you can help me plant my spring flowers. The man is supposed to deliver them right after breakfast, so we'll have plenty of time to get them in the ground before the sun gets too hot. After that you can help me clean house. I haven't had time to touch it since your last visit, so there's plenty to do. Mrs. Haggard is going to come over for lunch and a little gin rummy, so you'll have to hurry if you want to make a good impression!"

Samuel groaned. "Mrs. Haggard? But ... Nana ... she ... last time she was here ... she was really mean to me!" The naked boy grabbed his grandmother's hand and pleaded, "Please, Nana, don't let her see me like this again!"

The old woman pulled his hair back tight and high on the back of his head and replaced the elastic bands. She flipped the curly ponytail and chuckled. This was standard practice in the Tully household to keep her grandson's hair from getting tangled in his sleep.

"Oh, really, baby doll, Gertrude wasn't being mean to you. She adores you and you know it!"

Samuel stuck out his bottom lip as he pleaded his case. "But, Nana, she hit me and spanked me really hard! She was really mean to me! And you let it happen!"

Mrs. Tully spun the recalcitrant boy around by his bare shoulders and she looked him in the eye. "Baby doll, that is nonsense and you know it. If you had been that rude to me I would have slapped your face, too. And it was your own fault that you got that little paddling. If you'd learn your manners maybe you wouldn't get in trouble all the time!"

The naked boy wanted to argue, but he knew better than to cross his grandmother.

"You're right, Nana. I'm sorry."

The next step in Samuel's bedtime ritual was cleaning his nose and ears. His grandmother produced a red rubber bulb similar to the one used to douche his bottom. The slender tip went up each nostril and the naked boy felt a powerful suction pull mucous from deep inside his head.

The same rubber bulb was used on each ear, followed by a cotton swab that was carefully inserted and swirled and twirled with an expertise born of experience. The naked boy trembled nervously as he was extremely ticklish in his ears. His involuntary giggling made an impression on his grandmother.

"See, and here you were acting all pouty and whiny. You really enjoy all this attention, don't you?

Samuel grinned shyly and shrugged.

Why argue, he reasoned. I may as well play the good little boy. At least I won't get another whipping.

Mrs. Tully reacted by giving the sad child a warm, grandmotherly hug. "Good boy. Now, go brush your teeth while Nana takes her bath."

Samuel Oliver rarely brushed his teeth at home without his mother making him. His routine at his grandmother's house was another story. In this case the naked boy was glad to brush his teeth as it gave him something to do while the old woman bathed. On more than one occasion he was treated to a full view as Mrs. Tully presented her nude form as though he wasn't even there!

Ugh! I hate it when she does that, the blond headed child thought, a shiver traveling up and down his naked spine. Talk about ugly! Nobody should have to see that!

This time Samuel carefully prepared his toothbrush - making sure to use the yellow handled one, not the pink! - his grandmother filled the tub with fresh water and perfumed bath oil. Facing the mirrored vanity he could see her reflection as she began undressing. First her huge slip was hung on the door hook next to her dress. In no more than her bra and panties - where did she get underwear that big, anyway? he wondered - she was a monstrous sight. Her breasts were obscenely huge, the nipples clearly visible through the silken material. Even worse, her nether region was rudely evident beneath the ancient cotton panties. The old lady shoes and the thick stockings rolled up to her knees made her look as comical as she was difficult to look at.

Samuel clenched his eyes closed as Nana unfastened her brassiere. He didn't want to see any more of his grandmother's body than that. He had, unfortunately, many times in the past and the image was enough to scar him for life. His only hope was to keep brushing his teeth until she was done. It was a strategy that almost never worked.

"Baby doll, finish up, please. Nana needs you to help her get in the tub."

Sighing softly, the naked boy spit, rinsed and spit again, then put away his toothbrush. Steeling himself, he approached the naked woman with his head down and his eyes squinting nearly shut.

This was another ritual that had been practiced many times. Mrs. Tully put her hand on top of the cowering child's curly head, pressing down on it to support her immense, whale-like frame as she lowered herself into the clear, fragrant water. The water level rose nearly to the top of the tub as she settled in for her soak, a phenomenon that always captured the attention of the wide-eyed boy.

While Irma Tully soaked, Samuel Oliver stood awkwardly beside the tub, trying not to look at the elephantine figure in all her natural glory. Except for his father's old men's magazines and a few glimpses of his mother, Samuel had never seen a naked woman. His mother was gorgeous, as pretty if not more so than the women in his father's stash of cheesecake. The creature before him, on the other hand, was more of a gruesome curiosity than a thing of beauty.

Samuel stood there for the longest time. Bored, uncomfortable and feeling much the victim, he tried to amuse himself by counting the tiles in the floor. True to form, about the time his knees started giving in to fatigue, the old woman ordered him to approach the tub.

"Here, take Nana's washcloth and scrub her back. She can't reach that far. That's my pretty baby doll. Help wash your sweet old Nana."

Samuel did as he was told. He took the soapy washcloth with both hands and rubbed the old woman's blotchy skin from the back of her neck all the way down to the crack between her cheeks.

Samuel cringed as his hand slid down into the warm, wet crevice of her backside.

Yuck! This is the worst thing I've ever had to do, the young boy thought with disgust.

Helping his grandmother out of the tub was a bittersweet chore for the twelve year old boy. While it meant that his role in the bath ritual was near an end, it also put him in close proximity of the dreaded ponderous breasts and the dense forest of fur that sprouted between those immense thighs. Samuel didn't want to look, but there was practically no way he could not.

Mrs. Tully lifted an immense breast and fanned under it with her hand.

"Get Nana's towel and dry her off, please. That's my baby doll. Such a good little boy!"

I'm almost done, he told himself over and over again as he rubbed his grandmother's flabby wet flesh with the towel. I'm almost done, I'm almost done...

At least it's not shampoo night, Samuel thought silently. Those are the worst!

The youth stood awkwardly as his grandmother rubbed her immense body down with a series of lotions and powders. He watched in amazed horror as she lifted her breasts one at a time and carefully powdered them, handling each as she would a small child. The sight of her applying the perfumed powder to her bare bottom and crotch would have been comical if it hadn't been so gross. He winced as her self-anointing offered an unprecedented view of the thick bushy region between her thighs. In spite of the repulsion he felt, he couldn't take his eyes from the bizarre sight.

"Come to Nana, baby doll. It's your turn."

Samuel Oliver stood in submission as his naked body was coated with a thick layer of sweet-smelling lotion and a generous dusting of baby powder. Over and under his arms, his bare belly, his back, down the crack between his buttocks, his legs, nary a crevice nor mound of young pale skin was left untouched. He squirmed a bit as the old woman playfully tweaked his nipples and slipped an errant finger up into his rectum, but he offered no resistance.

What's the use, he thought to himself. She'll do whatever she likes. Besides, it's not so bad, I guess.

Irma Tully was about to put away her lotions when she noticed Samuel's penis. It was still erect and bobbing up and down with his every movement. The little "pink pearl" peaked out from the snug foreskin, like a shy living thing. A light sparkled in her eye as she had a thought.

"Come here, baby doll. Nana needs to do something."

Following his grandmother's lead, the seventh grader quickly found himself facing the bathroom mirror. Still nude, Mrs. Tully put down the toilet lid and sat. She then pulled her grandson up so that he straddled her huge white thigh.

Samuel thought it felt strange for his butt hole to press against his grandmother's naked leg like that, but he said nothing. He was too busy trying to not look at the reflection before him.

That was nearly impossible as she took him by the chin and forced him to look straight at the mirror.

"See how pretty you are, baby doll? See what a pretty pair we make together? Nana loves her little baby doll. Baby doll loves his Nana, right?"

Samuel nodded as he stared at the bizarre image. Trapped and helpless, his pale, cherub-like body contrasted against the gargantuan form of his adopted grandmother. Where his skin was slightly plump with baby fat and free of blemishes, she was obese with age spots, unsightly creases and bulges where none should exist. His adolescent figure was feminine and graceful where hers was monstrous and grotesque. And just as his body language showed anxiety and confusion, the smiling woman exuded power and authority.

Samuel stared at his reflected image and felt a wave of hopelessness fall over him.

I'm never going to get this picture out of my head, he lamented. For the rest of my life, I'm going to remember this. No matter how hard I try!

Irma Tully's voice put a shiver down his spine. "Here, sit still, baby doll, and let Nana take care of that nasty wee-wee for you. It was bound to happen sooner or later. I suppose it just as well be sooner. Not to worry, though. Nana will make everything all better!"

Samuel shivered as his grandmother's hands roamed over the front of his body, the fingers of one playfully tickling his nipples, the fingers of the other taking a firm grip on his penis.

What is she doing to me ...?

The warm, fat fingers suddenly gripped his erection and slowly began stroking it up and down, up and down. The feel of the slippery hand rubbing his private organ was a shock to his senses.

No, not this! Please, don't let her do this ...!

"No ... Nana ... please..."

"Shhhh," the old woman ordered. "Let Nana do her duty. This is not for little boys to do, understand? This is something that only grandmothers and mothers do for their little boys. If I ever catch you doing it, if I ever hear of you doing it, you'll be punished. Do you understand me? I will blister your bottom so you won't be able to sit for a month!"

The naked boy was having trouble breathing, but he nodded. Trapped in the old woman's spell, he couldn't much of anything else.

"What did I just say? Say it!"

He cleared his throat and croaked, "This is for grandmothers and mother, not ... not boys."

The ogre-like woman in the mirror smiled. "That's right, baby doll. And what will happen to little boys who do this?"

Irma Tully grinned. "Very good. Now, you just look at the pretty little angel in the mirror and let Nana take care of that nasty little worm. Isn't that a pretty baby doll you see in the mirror? In a few minutes everything will be just fine..."

Samuel Oliver nodded. He tried not to look at the ridiculous sight before him, but he couldn't resist. A shudder of indescribable pleasure mixed with pain suddenly shot through his penis and swept over his body.

I want my mommy! he cried silently.

* * *

Across the yard in the two-story house next door Marlene Miller studied the illustrations in her mother's medical book. She was bored and disappointed. The evening had started off so well, but she'd seen nothing since coming home from dinner.

She ran her fingertip along the full-color technical drawing of a penis. It was a cross-section illustration showing all the parts, inside and out, but with a little imagination it suited her just fine. She smiled as she pretended the illustration was the penis belonging to the twelve year old boy next door. She pictured her fingernail pushing back the soft foreskin, tickling the sensitive glans and slipping inside the tiny lips to the urethra.

"I bet he wouldn't like that!" she whispered excitedly. "I bet he'd do anything I said if I did something like that to his precious little wiener!"

She was about to put her book away and go and join her mother and aunt when a sudden cry came from the house next door.

"Oh, Nana, no!" a broken, distressed voice called out. "Nana, no! Please, no!"

Marlene's heart raced. Something was going on. Something really bad. Or at least something bad for a certain young boy.

"Oh, Nana, I'm sorry! I promise, I won't do it ever again..."

The wide-eyed girl bit her lip. She thought about what she'd just heard. She thought about her mother and aunt. She then glanced down at the penis illustration.

Nope, this is more important, she decided. I can't leave now. Not after all this waiting. I've got to know what's going on.

Mom and Aunt Margaret will just have to wait.

* * *

Samuel Oliver could barely stand. His knees were wobbly and his entire body tingled as though he'd gotten an electric shock. He had just experienced something that was both horrible and wonderful at the same time. Shame and elation seized him, leaving him at a complete loss for coherent thought much less something as sophisticated as words. He decided to do the thing he did best, which was just keep his mouth shut.

Still naked, Mrs. Tully sat on the toilet and pulled the disgraced boy close. He cringed as she began cleaning the tip of his penis with the dreaded toothbrush and a cotton swab. The soft foreskin was folded back and the tender glans was scrubbed and rubbed with vigor. Samuel cried and whimpered in pain, but his grandmother smiled and hummed as if she was working on a stubborn stain. She ended her cleaning ritual with several applications of a sweet smelling ointment that burned his already aching member.

I'll never jerk off again, he promised himself. I'll never jerk off again! I'll never jerk off again!

"Here, baby doll," Mrs. Tully said, taking an intimidating green bottle from the cabinet. "Take your medicine. It will help you get a good night's sleep. We have a big day tomorrow and Nana wants her little baby doll to be fresh and well rested."

Samuel opened wide as four table spoons of the most awful tasting cough medicine were jammed down his throat. He wanted to gag but somehow he managed to keep the nasty liquid down. The taste was atrocious, triggering a shiver up and down his naked body.

"That's a good boy," said his grandmother. She pulled his naked body against hers and gave him a warm hug. "You'll feel better in a little while, as snug as a bug in a rug."

While Samuel Oliver tried to catch his breath he watched his grandmother put on her nightgown. The flimsy garment didn't do much to conceal her massive breasts, which by now had indelibly imprinted in his mind as the primary symbol of feminine authority. He caught himself staring at the huge nipples pressing against the thin cotton material and then quickly looking away out of guilt.

It wasn't just his grandmother's breasts that gave him distress.

The naked boy recoiled as the old woman took out her dentures. After brushing them with a toothbrush she put them in a drinking glass to soak. It was a disgusting sight and it made him queasy just thinking about it. The image of her enormous white teeth sitting in a drinking glass was rivaled only by the bizarre expression her face took on without any dental work at all.

She looks just like a monster toad looking at me like that, he thought with a shiver. It's like something out of a horror movie!

Irma Tully cast a toothless smirk at the naked boy. He stared wide-eyed at her, then dropped his eyes downward in a combination of revulsion and submission.

"Just stand there for a moment, baby doll. Nana has to tinkle. Then we'll get to bed. Don't you worry, Nana hasn't forgotten about her tired little boy."

The naked boy nodded and whispered, "Yes, Nana" without looking up.

The old woman hiked her gown up about her waist and sat on the toilet. The sound of her urine splashing in the water quickly followed. Samuel looked away, afraid of what he might see.

Samuel faltered for an instant and was treated to the sight of the old woman wiping between her legs with a tissue. He quickly closed his eyes, shivered, and tried to erase the unfortunate image from his memory.

Finished with her evening hygiene routine, Mrs. Tully turned and studied the nude child before her. It had been a good night. His posture revealed his weariness and submission. Even though he was looking down, she could tell he was listening, waiting for her to speak. This was exactly the behavior she was looking for.

"I don't know why your mother is having such trouble with you," she said with a shake of her head. "All it takes is a little effort and a bit of thinking. For all their faults, though, boys can be a joy as long as you do your part."

Samuel nodded, not paying any real attention to what she was saying. He was pondering whether prisoners of war had to endure such shame.

The old woman looked down at her grandson's poor shriveled penis and she grinned a toothless grin. The boyish member was no longer erect, but instead had shrunken to a withered vestige of its former self. She had to chuckle. The best way to rid young boys of arrogance and excess energy was to drain them of their strength and take total control of their emotions. She had done exactly that. She was now the source of both Samuel's pleasure and his pain. At this point in his life she could get him to do anything she wanted. She could make him cry or laugh with little more than the flick of her finger.

I've still got the touch. And after all these years!

Irma Tully smiled at the naked boy with her toothless mouth.

She would definitely have to tell her friend Gertrude about tonight.

* * *

Marlene Miller opened her bedroom door, took a precautionary look down the hallway and listened. It was strangely quiet downstairs. She strained her ears. Nothing. She hadn't heard her aunt's car leave. Maybe her mother and aunt were watching television. Or perhaps they were out on the back porch chatting. No matter. She had something to do and timing was crucial.

Standing up straight, she boldly opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. She did her best to pretend that everything was going on as normal. That was the key to a good undercover operation. Deception by hiding in plain sight. Let nothing be seen as out of the ordinary. That's what she had read and that's what had gotten her through the past several weeks.

Marlene went straight to the bathroom, closed the door and paused. She then carefully and quietly turned the lock. While her mother didn't normally like when she did this - "What if you fall and bump your head on the commode? What if you were unconscious?" - it was an acceptable risk considering what she was about to do next.

Leaving the bathroom light off, Marlene cracked open the bathroom window and took her position on the toilet. With the lid down and if she turned just right, she could see directly into Mrs. Tully's bedroom. She smiled. This was a much better view than she could ever get from the window at her desk in her room.

The twelve year old girl lifted up her father's army field glasses and pressed the vintage rubber cups against her eyes. The lights were on but no one was to be seen. Odd, how a woman that age would leave her shades open at night, especially with the lights on like that.

Oh, well, I guess she just doesn't worry about people looking through her windows, Marlene thought for about the hundredth time.

Come on, the youngster pleaded silently. Come on...

As if in response, the bedroom light came on and a freshly scrubbed and blushing pink Samuel Oliver minced into the room. Marlene smiled. The naked boy was followed by the rotund figure of Mrs. Irma Tully, clad in an old fashioned nightgown. Samuel walked submissively, carefully, almost on tiptoe, before his grandmother, hands by his sides and chin pressed down against his chest. Marlene grinned to see his countenance through her father's binoculars. He looked ashamed, defeated and helpless. She liked that. She liked that a lot.

The excited girl tilted the field glasses downward. Samuel's little penis was limp and tiny, bouncing lifelessly from side to side as the boy walked around the room. Marlene was a little disappointed.

I wonder what happened to it? It's usually sticking straight out after his bath. That's the best part! Am I missing something here?

It was bedtime in the Tully household, even though it was barely nine o'clock on a Friday night and there was still a little sunlight outside. The phrase "up with the chickens and down with the cows" had been heard from Mrs. Tully more than once. Marlene like that phrase, especially considering how it was being used to torment a young boy named Samuel Oliver.

The sleeping arrangements in the Tully household intrigued the young girl. There was another bedroom in the little cottage - Marlene had seen it once during a tour with her mother and aunt when they first moved into the neighborhood - but no one ever slept there. Samuel Oliver slept instead in his grandmother's room. In her bed, as a matter of fact. Marlene giggled. She figured that out a few weeks after first discovering the strange goings on in the little cottage at the end of the lane.

Besides watching this pretty boy get stripped naked and paddled on his bare bottom, what went on in this bedroom was one of the most fascinating things Marlene had ever seen in her life. Her memories of sleeping with her own grandmother, and her mother and aunt, for that matter, were nothing short of precious. There was nothing like being wrapped in the arms of someone who loved you, especially when you're little. Of course, as one gets older they tend to want more privacy and independence. Marlene grinned. Those were two things Samuel Oliver did not get in Irma Tully's bedroom.

I bet he is just miserable right now, the smiling girl thought. And it's just going to get better!

In keeping with her usual routine, Mrs. Tully pulled down the covers while a compliant Samuel watched. Through the field glasses Marlene studied the boy's face and body. He looked so close, so clear to her that she was moved by his beauty. From his sad, shiny blue eyes to his fat little bottom and protruding belly, to his sad-looking penis and his plump, feminine nipples, he was as beautiful as any nymph or angel in her art history book.

"Ugh, he is so pretty, I can't stand it!" she said aloud to herself. "It's just not fair!"

Biting her lip, Marlene watched impatiently as Mrs. Tully helped the naked boy onto the bed. To her delight, the old woman left the covers down near his feet.

"I think she's going to do it!" Marlene whispered excitedly. "Oh, boy, oh, boy! I hope he cries again this time!"

* * *

Samuel Oliver felt vulnerable as he lay on his back, completely exposed td his grandmother's smiling gaze. For several seconds, minutes perhaps, she just stood and looked him, her eyes drifting across his naked body, pausing here and there with fondness and pleasure in her thoughts.

Why does she do that? he wondered anxiously. I hate being stared at like that! It's bad enough that I don't have any clothes on. She looks like she's hungry and I'm something she's going to eat.

As bad as he hated being on display, the shamed boy laid as still as he could in hopes that his grandmother would lose interest and go away. Suddenly the overhead light went out, leaving the room illuminated only by a flickering lamp next to the bed.

Oh, please, let me go to sleep, Samuel prayed as the hardwood floor creaked and groaned under the old woman's weight.

With a grunt and a groan, Irma Tully pulled herself onto the mattress and laid next to her naked grandchild. Propping her head up so she could gaze at his pale, angelic body by the glow of the lamp, she laid her hand on his bare belly and stroked it affectionately. She rubbed her palm down below his belly button and gave his limp penis a grandmotherly tickle. She then moved her hand upward toward the little dip between his budding breasts and caressed his pink nipples.

"Why don't you roll over for Nana and she'll rock you to sleep?" she said softly.

Samuel sighed. He knew that was coming. "Rock you to sleep" didn't mean what he would have thought it meant just a few weeks before. He thought for an instant about saying, "No, Nana, I'd rather not." He tried that a few times in the past and it never worked. His grandmother could be very persuasive.

"Okay, Nana."

The naked boy did as he was bidden, rolling onto his belly and turning his face away from his grandmother. He hated looking her in the eye whenever she did this to him. Instead, he looked at the scenery out the window. The sun had fallen and the shadows were fast in coming. He focused on the darkened window across at the neighbor's house and tried to pretend he was someplace, any place but in that bedroom with this ugly old witch.

I wonder what they're doing next door, he wondered. I'd be watching a movie or maybe work on my model starship...

Irma Tully smiled at the helpless boy before her. She admired the graceful shoulders, the narrow curves of his waist and the pale mounds of soft flesh that formed his buttocks. Just knowing that this lovely adolescent child was at her beck and call was enough to add years to her life. She licked her ancient lips, smiled a mischievous, toothless smile and began rubbing his smooth, bare back with the palm of her hand.

"There now, doesn't that feel nice?"

Samuel nodded, more from habit than anything else. He knew what was coming next, or so he thought. He braced himself for it as he knew better than to resist.

It's not that bad, he said to himself. It's not that bad, it's not that bad, it's not that bad...

As she rubbed his back Mrs. Tully began the little song she sang every night at this time. Her angelic voice contrasted with her toad like looks and demeanor.

"You're so pretty, little boy, you're my pretty baby doll..."

Samuel cleared his throat and whispered something.

The old woman paused and chuckled. "Come on, baby doll, you know the words. Sing for Nana. You're so pretty, little boy, you're my pretty baby doll..."

A sharp slap on his bare bottom punctuated her words. "Sing, baby doll, or I'll go get my hairbrush. You don't want that, do you?"

Irma Tully smiled as the quiet child vigorously shook his head. She then repeated the little tune.

"You're so pretty, little boy, you're my pretty baby doll..."

Samuel felt his face burn red as he reluctantly sang, "I'm so pret-ty. I'm so pret-ty."

"A little louder, please, baby doll. Nana can hardly hear you." Mrs. Tully rubbed his back as she sang, "You're so pretty, little boy, you're my pretty baby doll..."

"I'm so pret-ty. I'm so pret-ty," the trembling boy sang with a wavering voice.

"You're so pretty, little boy, you're my pretty baby doll..."

"I'm so pret-ty. I'm so pret-ty."

Samuel felt so stupid singing that silly song, but he didn't have much choice about it considering his situation. He would have never sung it in front of his friends or even his mother. Being called "pretty" and "girly" all the time by his mother's friends was bad enough. But to actually say something like "I'm so pretty" in front of anybody would have been disastrous for his reputation and his future as a seventh grade boy.

"I'm so pret-ty. I'm so pret-ty."

Mrs. Tully's demands posed a completely different set of problems. Having to say "I'm so pretty" for this smiling ugly old woman was humiliating. But he knew what would happen if he didn't sing it.

The worst part was that he couldn't think about anything else while he sang it. He couldn't think about his friends or his comic books or what he'd be doing if he wasn't in this awful place. All he could think about was singing, "I'm so pret-ty. I'm so pret-ty."

After several verses, long enough to establish a rhythm that lulled him into a lingering state of relaxation, Samuel Oliver was close to falling asleep. The codeine was taking effect. Just as he was about to nod off, he felt his grandmother's hand drift down over his bare back, lightly tickling his naked bottom. There she rubbed the smooth, pale skin in rhythm with the song, allowing her fingers to dance and play across the hills of soft flesh and explore the deep valley between.

Despite his drowsiness, Samuel forced himself to relax and accept what happened next. There was no use doing otherwise. It was like little game. A solitary visitor would come to the back door and push against his "rosebud." He would hesitate, just long enough to convince himself he didn't want to let the visitor in. But when she pressed harder, he would slowly and grudgingly relent, opening the back door and welcoming in the curious stranger.

A sudden electric thrill shot through his young body as the bold visitor made itself at home, exploring every crevice and fold, every secret hiding place within his body. Soon a second visitor arrived, spreading open his back door until it felt like the whole would could see inside.

Clenching his eyes closed tight, Samuel willingly spread his legs wide apart and took a deep breath he opened his bottom as far as he could make it go. The two strangers then joined together, sending a wave of electricity over his naked body. The pair danced a rhythmic, energetic dance, sliding in and out, in and out, all while tapping against a secret spot that he barely knew he had, triggering a new sensation that took his breath away.

Irma Tully smiled in the glow of the lamp as her grandson moaned, long and soft, his voice sounding like that of a contented house pet.

Just as he fell toward darkness Samuel Oliver thought to himself, maybe tomorrow won't be so bad. Maybe something different will happen and I'll have some fun for a change.

He might not have felt so content had he known what the next day would bring.

* * *

Marlene Miller bit her lip so hard it bled. She didn't care. It wasn't the first time she'd done so, and it wouldn't be the last. She had more important things on her mind.

A soft wind swept across the yard, obscuring the gentle melody sung by her neighbor. But through her field glasses the young girl had a plain view of Samuel Oliver and what was happening to his bare bottom. She'd never been so grateful for a piece of military equipment in her life! Even in the dim light of the nightstand lamp, through the high-grade military optics she was able to see exactly what was going on in Mrs. Tully's bed. Without the glasses only a soft glow and shadows were evident.

The seventh grader absentmindedly licked a drop of blood from her chin. She had seen Mrs. Tully's bedtime routine at least half a dozen times in the past. The first few times Samuel had resisted, crying and pulling away and begging for mercy. But now, well, he was just laying there, calmly singing that silly, prissy little girly song, while his grandmother gently massaged his bare bottom. The old lady acted as though this was the most natural thing in the world for someone to do.

But there was something odd about the way things went this time. Watching carefully, Marlene studied the quiet scene, savoring every detail and committing it to memory. That's when the seventh grader detected a definite rise and fall in Samuel's hips, as though he was working in concert with his grandmother's effort to penetrate his bottom.

Wow, look at that, she thought to herself. He's liking it! He's actually liking being touched in his bottom!

Marlene suddenly remembered a story on the cable television a few nights before and seeing several animals copulating. Lions, cattle, dogs ... even turtles. It was a short clip and her mother didn't say anything while it was on. Marlene had giggled seeing the male turtle climbing on top of her partner, but otherwise watched with rapt interest.

Why would I think of that, she wondered. Then she grinned. Oh, right. Silly me.

"Mrs. Tully's grandson is acting just like a female dog having sex," she whispered to herself. "He's acting just like a little bitch!"

Marlene Miller giggled at her words. A little bitch? She never talked like that before. Was she getting bolder?

The flustered girl thought about what happened earlier that evening and how Mrs. Tully had used the same technique to calm down the crying boy after his paddling. She remembered how quickly he went from hysteria to calmness and quiet, just with the mere touch of his grandmother's finger inside him. As amazed as she was by that performance, the young girl was in awe of the scene before her.

Mrs. Tully is a sorceress! the young girl concluded. She's got her finger right up Samuel's naked butthole - the second time in one day! - and he isn't fussing or complaining or anything of the sort! She's got him wrapped around her finger ... literally! And he likes it! He really does like it!

She dropped her lens down to Samuel's face. His eyes were glazed over as though he was in a hypnotic state. She could see his lips moving and in the distance she could just barely hear him singing, "I'm so pret-ty. I'm so pret-ty."

I wonder what it feels like to have a boy wrapped around your finger, she wondered dreamily.

* * *

Marlene's mother strained her eyes to see what was going on in the darkened window across the yard, but there was nothing to be seen.

"Okay, that's it! The lights are out and I can't see a damned thing! I don't know about you, but I can't stand not knowing what all is going on in that house!"

Seated on the bed, Aunt Margaret lit up a cigarette and blew a stream of smoke at her sister.

"And just what are you going to do?" she said, her voice low and soft. "Knock on the door and say, 'Oh, hi, Mrs. Tully. I just happened to be looking out my window last night and I noticed you whipping the tar out of that cute little curly headed boy in his birthday suit. Can I join in?'"

Mary Frances Miller shot her sister a playful look. "I just might."

"Yeah, right!" Aunt Margaret blew another stream of smoke.

"This is really strange, spying on our neighbors like this. Aren't we doing something wrong?"

"Probably. I mean, I don't know. Who does?" Mrs. Miller looked out toward the darkened window across the yard. "I wonder if Marlene knows what's going on over there. That's the only thing that concerns me."

Aunt Margaret sighed. "I don't think so. Marlene's always got her head in her books. Besides, so what if she does know? So what if she's seen anything? You and I saw worse when we were kids. Remember when we were kids and David from next door broke your glasses?"

Mrs. Miller put her finger to her lips, nodding toward the door. "Shhh, I think she's in the bathroom. And, yes, for the record, I do remember David. How could I forget? That's what got me into all this in the first place. It got us both into it if I remember correctly. So what's your point?"

Aunt Margaret grinned. "I'm just sayin'. Marlene's a smart girl. I love her to death, but she acts like she's afraid of her shadow sometimes. Something like this might turn her around. We were both pretty shy before we saw the light. It didn't hurt us at all."

Marlene Miller's mother smiled. "I know. I think that's one of the reasons I need to find out what's going on. Just in case, you know..."

The younger woman blew another stream of smoke. "Oh, I'm with you, one hundred percent. Don't worry, sister dear. This is one thing that you and I agree on."

* * *

Marlene flushed the toilet, checked the mirror and carefully unlocked the door to the bathroom.

Here I go, she said to herself. I hope Mom and Aunt Margaret are still downstairs...

She had just reached her bedroom door when she heard a noise behind her. Reacting quickly, she tossed her father's old army binoculars onto her bed and turned around to see her mother and aunt emerging from the master bedroom.

Oh, crap!

"Hey, Mom! Hey, Auntie Margaret! What are you guys doing?" she said in as nonchalant a manner as she could muster.

The two women glanced at each other, then turned to face the twelve year old girl. There was an awkward pause before anyone said anything.

"Oh, hi, honey," replied Mrs. Miller. "We're not doing much of anything. Why are you asking?"

Marlene was surprised by her mother's answer, but she tried not to show it. It wouldn't do to raise too many questions. Her mother and Aunt Margaret might not understand what she'd been doing the past little while ago.

Aunt Margaret started to say something, but her sister cut her off.

"Oh, um, we were just looking through some of my old clothes," Marlene's mother said. Mrs. Miller nodded toward the younger woman. "Your silly Aunt Margaret is missing a sweater and she thinks I might have it."

A freckle-faced Marlene kicked the carpet with her toe. "Oh, yeah, the project. It's fine. Actually, I got that done ages ago. Which sweater?"

Mrs. Miller raised her eyebrows. "Pardon? What sweater?"

"The sweater you said Auntie Margaret is missing. Which one is it? Maybe I can help find it."

The two women exchanged glances again. Marlene could have sworn they both had that blotchy look around their necks whenever they were angry or upset or excited about something. Something had them going. She just hoped they hadn't figured out what she'd been doing. That would be bad.

Marlene tapped her toe on the carpet again. "I dunno. I still got that project to work on and..."

Mrs. Miller cleared her throat and laughed a strange laugh. "Oh, nonsense, darling! You just said yourself that it was all done. You can't stay cooped up in that room all weekend."

"Mom, I can't! Really, that was just the first draft." Marlene resisted the urge to go take a peek out her bedroom window. "I've got some more work to do before I turn it in."

The two women looked at each other. Mrs. Miller just shook her head and sighed.

"Well, if you're sure," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm not used to my little girl turning down a shopping trip to the mall."

All right," Mrs. Miller replied. "I gave it a try, I guess."

"You work that girl too hard," Aunt Margaret admonished. "The poor girl is turning into a bookworm."

Mrs. Miller elbowed her sister, nodding toward her daughter in the process. Marlene was barely paying either of them any attention.

"Well, it's true," Aunt Margaret continued. "If she was my daughter..."

"That would be a miracle," the elder woman interjected.

The two sisters turned and headed down the stairs, leaving twelve year old Marlene Miller standing at the door to her bedroom, a faraway look in her eyes.

I hope he's still here in the morning, she told herself silently. I know he will be. She'll keep him here all weekend, just for me.

Just for me.

To be continued...